Caim's Chronicles
by VERGILthefallen
Summary: A retelling of Dark souls 3 in the eyes of Caim, the ashen one. A pyromancer with his own thoughts on the world of Lothric and the cycle of fire. He will follow the path before him, but his choices are his own. A retelling of the game's story. Rated for language and violence. Rating may change
1. Chapter 1: Awakening

It was dark.

Caim struggled to open his eyes but quickly squeezed them shut. He sat forward, feeling a mountain of heavy dust roll off of him and hang in the air. He waved a hand and banished it away.

 _Where am I?_

His hands gripped hard, rough stone around him. He shook his head and tossed away the last of the dust so he could open his eyes.

Not dust. Ash. He was covered in ash. The world was covered. The stone of the coffin he rested in. The trees and rock around him. Slowly, carefully he rolled and placed his feet on the ground. He shook, unsteady but grit his teeth and forced himself to stand.

"I'm alive?" He touched his own head. It was hard to think or remember. Flashes. Fragments of fire and yelling. Fighting. Dying. In a panic, he clutched at his chest and tore open his robes. Nothing. No mark. No darksign. "No hollow then."

A great ringing chime echoed in the distance. Some bell great enough to shake the earth. For now, it was something to chase. Caim would take any distraction at the moment. Reaching back into the crypt that had been his own he found a familiar axe and a more familiar tool.

His pyromancy flame was still warm and burned with a dull glow of a dying ember. The wooden shield would serve him better for now. Testing the axes weight, he turned and started down the only path this crevice offered.

His body was sluggish and slow. At least the pyromancer garb, while slightly decayed. As light and comfortable. His flame felt weak. His heart struggling to remember how it worked.

Down the path, he saw corpse. A weathered and decrypt thing slumped against one of the walls. Caim watched him warily as his hair stood on end. No. Not dead, he thought as the body shambled to its feet, one hand gripping a broken shattered sword, Hollow.

The creature hissed and began running, its gait unsteady and shambling towards Caim. It was faster than he expected but nothing to a seasoned warrior like himself. He deflected the crude broken weapon sending the creature off balance. The first axe strike staggered it further and the second knocked it to its knees. The final blow drove the creature to the ground where it stayed, motionless.

He waited, cautious to ensure was truly dead. One last kick to be sure and he left the body. This valley opened up far more, much wider than the one that had held his crypt. In its center was a stone fountain, cracked and broken through time. Seated before it was another hollow. It too rolled to its feet, howling.

Caim rolled past the first thrust and brought his axe around cleaving into the creatures back with a sick crunch. He swung again sending it to the ground in a boneless heap. The threat removed he turned back to the fountain to the clear glow at its base. A blue flask that shifted as he turned it one side to the other. Not the same as the estus in his belt, but damn close.

 _Later._ He tucked the flask away and stepped through the shallow water. It was cold and stank. The air was stagnant and full of dry dust. It was eerily quiet. He could hear no animals or signs of life in the distance. The world was dead. Its last breathes were just whispers in the wind. Pushing those thought down with others he didn't like he approached a set of stone stairs raising him from the water.

Another hollow, this one awake and armed with a crossbow. It gave a raspy roar and fired. Caim dove to the side using the broken stone for cover. _Damn._ He tucked away his shield as another bolt struck the rock. It was burning with a dying flame on its tip. "I'll show you fire you wretch." He threw out his hand and the simple creature took the pointless shot. Caim dove out.

His hand burned the power forming into a ball of fire gripped in his fingers. With a howl, he hurled the churning flames at the hollow. The fire splattered catching its rags into flames. He rushed the stunned, burning creature and delivered the final blow with his axe, cleaving the creatures head.

A growl made him spin but too slow as the hollows sword carved across his ribs.

"Damn bastard!" He dove away as the creature swung again hitting only air. The fire formed again and he hurled another ball of fire at his new enemy letting it envelop him before tossing one more to incarnate the creature.

He took a drink of the flask, felling its restorative effects stich his side back together. _I need armor._ He thought as he walked up the path towards the sunlight. _A better weapon too._

As the hill crested he paused. It was a breathtaking sight. It would have been if he could feel any real application for the beauty. The land below as a vast, featureless landscape covered in fog. Down the slope was a grand circular arena. Beyond, a round, towering building. Ornate if broken. It was flanked by a pair of towers. Tall and looming. A bell hung in one tower.

"There's my bell." He whispered. He turned and gazed up. An imposing castle stood above like some great guardian. It seemed less fazed by the decay that was claiming the world below. "Typical of the higher class. Letting the lower rot." He shouldered his axe and stepped towards the arena.

A bonfire. It made his pause. A familiar and welcome sight to any traveler. He settled down at took the time to rest, examining his items. The axe would hold for now. The shield would do until he found something better. His flame felt stronger now. Everything else would have to suffice.

"Let's have a look at the little cathedral." He said standing. He could see more hollows ahead. Some resting others standing as if on an eternal guard. He readied the shield and axe and strode down the path.

The first one fell easy. The other two nearly caught him off guard and he was forced to step away, rolling behind them to catch the first and then the other caught him in the arm. He took the high path and claimed a small metal shard from a coffin before dropping on an unsuspecting hollow, felling him in a single swing. The last one with a crossbow guarded the doorway. Caim rushed him dodging the first bolt and driving the axe into his back before it could recover

He waited but no others showed themselves. With a sigh, he walked into the arena. A great coffin sat beneath a massive tree to his left. The right had broken away and fell into the nothingness below. It was cracked, wet and had a different kind of foul smell to it. Part of that must have been due to the massive creature that kneeled in its center.

The great knight was clad in full iron armor, head to toe. At least nine feet tall he kneeled on one knee, his head bowed. A great iron halberd was driven into the stone at his side, a coiled sword driven through his chest.

The sword drew him in. In was no use as a weapon but he could feel power wrapped around it. Power that wrapped up the giant before him. This was dangerous. Downright foolish. But it was calling to him. Whispering. Challenging him.

"Alright. Let's take your test." He gripped the hilt and pulled digging in his feet before tugging harder. He groaned and grit his teeth feeling the burn as he struggled. Then it gave. An inch. Then two. Then ten. The sword came free and he staggered back examining the sword.

There was a heat radiating from within the metal. Not painful but comforting like the fire of his pyromancy flame. The power drew deeper and ….

The giant moved.

Camin leapt back as the giant shifted shaking off years of dust and water. Moss fell away, his armor groaned and protested. His arm reached out, gripping the great halberd and swung it around, holding it in a ready stance. His face rose and light shone in those dead eyes. A deep hissing roar echoed from the iron helm as the creature stomped his leg, the entire arena shaking with the force.

"Well alright then." He tucked away the sword and drew out the axe, raising his shield. "Have at you!"

Gundyr answered.


	2. Chapter 2: Gundyr

Gundyr did not disappoint. The first blow sent Caim tumbling across the ground. He scrambled to his feet and rolled as the great warrior crashed into the ground spinning his halberd around to try and take his head off. Caim rolled under the blow, the air whipping at his hood, and swung his axe. The blow scored a hit along his back.

Metal struck metal with a raking cry. The iron armor cracked and cut under the axe head. He blocked the next swing feeling the impact rattle his arm and strain his shield.

 _Armor is tough but not invulnerable._ He rolled past another swing and landed two more blows, scoring lines in the giant's armor. It was a thrill. Battle against a real powerful foe. He dodged another thrust and the following overhead slam that cracked the ground. He was dangerous. So much power. Every step from this warrior cracked the stone beneath him. Every swing he didn't dodge was straining the bones of his arm.

He blocked a leaping blow and was again sent tumbling over the stone. He slid to stop in a splash of water and stood. Blood leaked from the cuts along his face. His left arm was numb and everything else was sore. He watched the behemoth as he turned, slowly returning to his stance.

"C'mon." He taunted.

Gundyr rushed, his halberd leveled. Caim rolled past him his axe digging into his back two more times. _I've got him!_ He pulled back for the last swing.

A grip of cold iron crashed into his side. Gundyr lifted him up. His feet leaving the ground as the beast lifted him high. He beat the metal hand, kicking at the wrist. It was useless. The iron grip didn't give. He saw the halberd just before it was thrust into his stomach. He couldn't do anything as it drove into his gut, tearing into him. His mouth opened in a guttural scream.

Blood spilled freely from his chest over the great weapon before Gundyr turned and hurled him away like trash. He hit the ground, bouncing and skidding though the water to hit the wooden tree root. The world spun and danced in a haze. His hand gripping the gaping wound of his chest. The pain was an afterthought. Panic was his first and only thought.

 _Not now!_ He cursed and got to his feet. Gundyr was advancing on him slow like a predator on his helpless prey. His hand gripped the axe with white knuckled fist. _Not dead yet. I'm not dead yet_. He drew out his flask and downed another drink. The burn was comforting as he felt his chest regrow. Weeks of healing in seconds. He coughed and picked up his axe. He stomped his foot and roared his challenge at the warrior.

The halberd wielder took the invitation and charged. His thrust became a spiraling slash. Caim dodged the first and blocked the second, staying at the creature's feet. His axe hit and dug into the armor. He felt it connect with flesh and he jerked the weapon out at a different angle tearing metal and flesh from him in a blast of black.

The piercing cry made him stumble back. The warrior fell to his knees, one hand clawing at his head. Then it changed. In a blast of black and a piercing howl the warriors back exploded. A black form erupted from his shoulders overcoming his left arm and his head. A mass of black fluid like snakes that coiled into a singular form. Red light shined as the largest of the form solidified like the head of a great snake and turned its glare down.

"What the hell?" A great claw of metal and bone erupted from the side and hit the ground raking the stone and swinging up towards Caim. The undead barley got his shield in the path of the attack. The impact was jarring, pushing his guard and slamming into his chest. The shield cracked and splinted as Caim was tossed through the air.

He rolled to his feet quickly as the horrid creature turned to face him again. Its form grotesque and misshapen. Clinging to the much smaller, in comparison, form of the warrior. It howled and hissed as it dug its claw into the ground.

"Abyss." Caim growled the word, letting it slip out like venom. He knew this thing. Not this form but he had seen it in other states. The taint of the abyss was something he knew by sight. He cast aside the broken shield, drawing out his flame and channeling power into it.

The beast lunged, leaping high into the air and bringing the halberd down with its full weight. Caim rolled under it spinning and hurling the first ball of flame. It struck the creature's back in a wave of flames and chorus of screams. He didn't stop, channeling another flame and hurling it. Then another and another.

The creature roared and hissed. Wailing and howling as the fires consumed it. It writhed on the ground before the last of the flames consumed it. Caim watched as the fires faded. It remained still then with a final cry it dissolved into dust, vanishing into nothing.

The fire burned inside him. Comforting and powering. This was different. This isn't the burning of a pyromancy well learned. It was something stronger. Something primal and powerful. Looking down he found his injuries gone. In place his skin was darker. It burned with the slightest flickers of flame. Like embers dying on his clothes and his hands.

"Well, I could enjoy this." He took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of the heat and the burning acrid scent of the dead abyss. He turned to the doors that bared his way. The towering shrine. Axe in hand he reached the doors and pushed, straining and pushing with all his newfound strength to force them slowly open.

The doors groaned and slowly yielded. With a final grunt, they spread open and he stepped forward. The building lay up the hill, a winding path with the signs of more undead along it. He made his way up, past a few trees. He saw one hollow standing on a cliff, staring into the nothing below. Caim let him be. Whatever the foolish thing was doing he could do it. As long as he didn't come after Caim.

Up the stairs he saw a path that led around the round building. He left it for now and stepped up the stairs into the arching doorway. In the distance, he could hear the steady hammering of metal on metal. Too steady to be battle. A burning scent of fire hung in the air here. There was life in this hall.

The building opened into a great round, multi-tiered chamber. Arrayed on the opposite side of the chamber were five great stone thrones on three separate levels. A doorway opened to the right back out into the sunlight. The chamber was lit by many small candles and torches. He stepped to the edge of the of the ring and looked down.

A man sat off to the side, hunched and wrapped in armor and cape. In the center a woman in flowing black robes stood staring at a pile of ash in the center before the thrones. Neither of them had the posture of hollows. The woman walked regally. Back straight, hands clasped before her. He moved down the stairs towards the woman. She turned to face him as he approached. No weapons. Her eyes were covered with a silvery mask of intricate woven metal.

"Welcome to the bonfire unkindled one." She said quietly. "I am a fire keeper. I tend to the flames and tend to thee. The lords have left their thrones and must be delivered to them. To this end, I am at thy side." She bowed her head slowly to him.

"Ashen one." He whispered the words to himself. Old legends. Ancient tales of the ashen one at the end of time. It certainly answered a few questions. He looked at the burning flames in his hand. The rolling embers. "Ash will seek embers." He recalled.

He looked back to the bowl of ash beside them. The ash and bones reminded him of the remains at the many bonfires. He pulled the coiled sword from his back.

"Yes." She said nodding. "Produce the coiled sword at the bonfire. The mark of ash will guide thee to the land of the lords. To lothric. Where the homes of the lords converge."

Lothric. More story's echoed in the back of his mind. Long forgotten tales he had cast aside a lifetime ago. Caim stepped to the cusp of the bowl and drove the sword down. The fire burst and roared before diming to a flicker. The power of the bonfire returned as the flames surged. The bonfire was whole again. It drew him in but he pushed it away.

"First I'll prepare. I'll need to be stronger if I'm going to collect the lords the cinder." He stared up at the thrones. Empty save for one that was filled by a legless, old man. Four lords. Four lords to gather to link the fire and continue the cycle. "I'm going to need more power."

The fire keeper nodded. Caim gave her another look. She was beautiful, what he could see at least. Graceful, frail and kind. She would help him. She would serve him. It would have to do. "You can help me?" He asked.

She nodded. She slowly placed her hand to her chest. "Touch the darkness within me. Using these soverginles souls I can help you become more powerful."

That was tempting. Lost souls were something he had many of. Killing the hollows had given him some form their deaths. He could get more. He would need to. "Very well." He stepped forward. "Let's see what power you can offer." _Then I will need to search the shrine._ Then there are things that needed doing before he went hunting for lords.


	3. Chapter 3: High wall of Lothric

The firelink shrine turned out to be a much livelier place than the world around it had led Caim to believe. Having decided to thoroughly search the area before he ventured any farther he searched the shrine and found several other occupants beside the firekeeper.

The first, the man he had nearly confused for a hollow, was little help. Hawkwood was an unkindled like himself but unlike Caim, Hawk seemed to have already given up. He was a morose, somber decrepit man. Any fight or struggle had left the man and he seemed to believe that hunting the lords was a fruitless, hapless quest. Caim refused to agree and left the man to wallow.

Down the path, following the sound of striking metal was a massive, burly form of a man. The bare chested, and bearded man hammered steady on the anvil. The sound ringing of metal stopped when he approached. The blacksmith, in exact opposite to the sad warrior, was upbeat. Not jovial but more decent and willing to talk.

The smith introduced himself as Andre. A smith more than willing to forge and refine weapons for Caim for little cost. Martials mostly. The great man was the one to reveal Hawkwood's name and told him of the last occupant of the Firelink shrine.

The handmaid was so quiet he had missed her the first time. Sitting deathly still in her chair. She inclined her head to him as he approached her. The stink of death was powerful around her. She seemed almost motherly when she spoke. Soft and gentle. But Caim could hear a callousness beneath her tone. A sort of distant interest. The amusement of watching a someone fall.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ashen One." She said cheerily. "I am but a humble handmaiden of the shrine. Weapons, armor, trinkets, and spells. I've lots of little things to ease the burden of a weary traveler. And yes, I'm Undead, too, but not so charitable as to give my goods away."

"Suppose that would be asking too much." He scoffed.

She nodded. "Ashen One, fetch souls, and bring them to me. As is thy wont, no?"

Caim sighed. Souls were the currency among the undead. Trading with this woman felt like bargaining with a demon. Still, it wasn't anything he could fight. He would need supplies in time. He would need souls to trade first.

Searching the exterior roof the shrine he found a new shield to replace his and a few lost souls. Standing guard at the western tower was another hollow. This one was different. He looked mostly human but stood in tattered rags with a single long curved sword. Caim could feel a different kind of bloodlust from him.

"Later." He said, turning from the warrior and returning to the shrine.

The bonfire waited. He returned and gave the firekeeper a final nod before touching the hilt of the coiled sword. The world faded into mist and fell away. It all came apart and he floated into the nothing before he felt his feet hit solid ground again.

The room was solid stone. Small, round. The doors before him were closed but he pushed them open and the sunlight streamed in. He breathed in the new air and stepped out. He was stood upon the city walls. Below, the castle and city played out before him.

The castle loomed above him. A towering, gleaming example of power that split the dying sunlight sky. The walls around him showed signs of battle and destruction. Stone cracked and shattered. Trees had wormed their way through the cracks to stand along the battlements. Fire flickered and burned below. Discarded weapons and arrows lay across the ground

 _Seems they lost the war._ He thought ideally stepping down the small staircase and scouting the surrounding area. The trees, he noticed, were more than trees. They were people. Hollows who had twisted and grown roots and branches. _Never seen that before._

Debris blocked passages there and there. He stopped to light a bonfire and scouted his two choices. In the distance to the left he could see the dead form of a dragon. Motionless across the wall. The other path lead to another high battlement that seemed mostly intact.

Along either path was the slow sluggish movement of hollows.

 _No safety. Better to check the one without the giant corpse._ He walked to the hole of the shattered battlement that overlooked the right wall. His eyes caught the resting crossbowman before he could rise and fell him with a few axe blows. It was a shame their weapons were so degraded. A crossbow could be useful.

Letting his worries aside he jumped down to the wall below. Two festering decayed dogs strolled across the wall. They barked and snarled when they saw him and came running they were fast and lethal. Feral energy lending them speed and ferocity. Both skidded to a stop as he dodged past them and he cut them down, after one tore a chunk from his leg.

Cursing, he walked down the path. On either side small shriveled hollows sat, murmuring unintelligible words and bowing their heads in some kind of worship directed at the trees scattered on the wall. Caim almost killed them but didn't see it fit to waste his energy. _Let the fools waste their time. Praying to gods that don't hear them._

Caim turned his attention ahead. A towering Hollow strode towards him, a tall halberd in his hands. It would give him reach. He would need to remove that advantage. As the hollow saw him and rushed thrusting the weapon Caim leapt past the weapon and got behind him, cutting his legs, then his torso. The hollow spun and Caim dodged again. Repeat. Hack. Dodge. And the creature fell.

Caim went up the stairs and had to duck back down as flaming crossbow bolt struck the stones. He peeked up. More praying hollows and one with a crossbow. No problem. Tricking out another bolt he leapt up the stairs and ran for the sniper. His axe buried into its neck he threw it to the ground. He stepped over where the body fell and found a simple longbow along with a quiver of arrows.

The celebration ended when he heard a low growl behind him. He spun in time to see one of the hollows standing. It clutched its head before it exploded into a familiar blast of black puss. Another abyss creature, clinging to the hollow.

"Damn it!" He leapt away as the creature began to bash the ground and tear at the stone with its great claw. The other praying hollows were thrown aside as the creature rampaged. Caim rolled and ran for the stairs. There was no point fighting this thing. He had a bow and from what he had seen the path beyond was collapsed. This was not a fight he needed.

He ran down the stairs as the creature keened and screamed. He left it behind only stopping to cast a look back when he reached the bonfire. He checked the bow now that he as safe. The quiver only had a dozen arrows. It would need to be saved. So, axe it is.

He rested at the bonfire briefly before taking the other set of stairs down. More hollows sat and worshiped. Many to the trees but some seemed to pray to the dead dragon. Among them, some took up arms. He cut down each hollow as they attacked. Even as one rose the far steps and wailed, ringing its bell and calling several more to battle. One by one they fell to his axe, one falling to his flame.

He left the pitiable creatures to their idle worship and descended the stairs. Two more hollows, these garbed in broken armor, waited. They fell swiftly and Caim examined the decayed room and its wooden leavings.

Everything here was damaged. Broken or rotten to some extent. The soldiers who remained stood guard out of some old habit. Their minds long since lost. It was a stroke of luck they didn't turn on each other but they didn't work together either. Each hollow rushed as some feral animal, howling and stabbing at him. This was the future of all humans. It was sickening.

Then there was the ones above who had lost reason and bowed to dead gods. Caim had never held much faith for the gods. Creatures that had created this eternal, tortuous cycle in their foolishness and fear. There were times he would have accepted the touch of the abyss. A time of ending.

That time was long ago. Now he held the fire close. He believed in the fire. If not in the gods he believed that in the fire was the only chance for survival. Survival, above all else, was important.

Exiting the dark battlement tower he found one of the first of the hollows to use a shield and another with a crossbow. The crossbow fell first, then the shield and spear wielder. Though it used a shield it lacked any skill with it. With them dispatched he marched up the stairs to get a good look.

The wall was covered in several hollows, including some larger ones dragging heavy axes. The hollow soldiers wandered without purpose back and forth. If he wanted to reach the gate he would need to….

The dragon crashing on the turret derailed any thoughts Caim had. The great beast dug its claws into the stone making crack and shatter like a thunderclap. It bellowed a mighty roar that shook him to his bones. Its dark eyes seized him, holding him for a brief moment before fire began to crackle from its jaws.

 _Damn! Damn! Damn!_ Diving down the stairs saved him as the wave of fire enveloped the wall. Flames rolled in waves over the wall and all the hollows above. He could hear their final screams as they died. Slowly back away he watched the dragon roar and thrash before spewing another gout of flame onto the wall.

 _Damn beast._ He cursed. _I can't kill that. Don't have enough arrows. That is assuming arrows would even hurt it._ The path above was an inferno. It was no longer an option. He made his was down the stairs in time to see the stream of flames envelop the lower path as well, killing all of the hollows that had been walking the path.

The dragon seemed intent on stopping his progress. But, it was clearly not healthy. Like the rest of the world. The dragon was pale and its movements, while quick and powerful, were lacking. It was sluggish. Weakened. He didn't need to kill it, just evade it.

He waited, watching before tapping his axe to the wall at the top of the stairs the dragon roared and bellowed forth another gout of fire but Caim was moving as soon as its head reared back. He hit the lower path and ran. He didn't stop to look. Looking would only let him know seconds before if he was going to die. He would make it or burn. That was the way of things. He hit the base of the turret without being scorched. Still, he waited a moment before advancing up the stairs and chancing a look back.

The dragon's attention was focused on the wall. He hadn't followed him. Either it hadn't noticed or it hadn't cared. Either way he was clear. He set off towards the opening in the next turret.

Right as a Lothric knight stepped out. Full plate ringing with each step. Sword held at his side and battered shield strapped to his arm. This was no decrypt hollow soldier. This was a knight and his power had endured the test of time.

The knight stopped abruptly. The ringing came to an end, replaced with only the distant crackling of fire, the moans of the undead, and Caim's own hastened breathing.

"Shit." He muttered.

The knight leapt into action. He was more than just strong, he was fast and precise. The knight swung his sword with quick fierce blows that Caim only just blocked. Each blow still dug into his shield and arm. He dodged a powerful thrust and another overhead blow, landing his own strikes. One rebounded off the knight's metal shield and left Caim open to take a sword slash along his abdomen. Blood splashed freely across his robes.

He darted away and drank from his flask. Trading blows with the knight, he scored another clean hit but was forced to drink again to recover when the knight thrust into his chest. This was a losing fight. There was no room to maneuver and this beast could waistband what he could deliver. Going back was suicide, so going forward was his only chance. A plan, rough and crude, formed in his head.

He rolled past the knight's next swing and got inside the tower he had exited. It was dark. So dark he nearly missed the hollow clad in dark cloth before it hit him. He barley managed to dodge aside and bring his pyromancy flame to bear, burning the lanky creature to nothing just as the knight followed him in.

Back stepping to gain more distance he formed another sphere of fire and hurled it at the knight. He blocked but he still licked at the armor. It pushed the undead back and he hurled another ball of fire. The knight rushed, heat turning his armor red and his cape to ash. His sword swung quickly and with abandon. Caim dodged the first and second swing as he built up another fireball. At the last moment, he stepped in and drove his hand, bursting with pyromantic flame into the knight's chest.

The blast drove the hulking warrior to the ground where it writhed momentary before it stilled, the flames licking at its broken corpse. He waited and kicked it before feeling it was truly dead. The tower had been broken up with several wooden floors, many of which had broken giving him a view some thirty feet down. Rather than investigate that he turned to where there was sunlight, taking the stairs up to the roof to find a welcome bonfire and view of the dragon.

The beast was still watching the other wall. As long as it was intent there Caim saw no reason to change that. He settled in to rest and examine the shard of metal he had taken from the knight's corpse. Andre could use this, this titante, to improve his weapons. He looked at his hand axe. He needed something else. A sword would be best. One like that knight. His however had been too decayed to use.

Caim held his hand close to the bonfire. He watched as the fires twisted around his pyromancy flame. Alive and fighting for every second. There was glory in the flames. Life that struggled every moment. Fire was life. Fire was death. These are the things all pyromancers must learn. He reshaped the flame, grasping it tightly in his fingers so he could feel its warmth.

"I have much to do still." He muttered. With a groan he rose from his resting place. Being idle would never suit him. The way of fire was to move, fight, progress and grow. Consume and become more powerful, like the fire.

He tried not to think that when the fires left, when they always eventually left, they left only ashes and soot.


	4. Chapter 4: Tower on the wall

The tower walls were infested with too many hollows to count. Descending back into the tower, Caim found more of the thief hollows. Clad in black and wielding wicked curved knives. They were not as subtle as they may have been in past lives. One by one he cut them down. After cutting down another halberd wielder he stepped down the hall.

Down the stairs and into the lower halls he walked. More thief hollows he evaded and cut down. One room was full of barrels that erupted in flames as a hollow hurled firebombs. He didn't make it much farther before he ran into a wall. Rather a door. A barred cell door was inside the small room. Locked solid.

 _No key no luck._ He thought turning away. The only thing in the locked cell was a single dead body. Not worth wasting the time hacking at the metal or trying to slip the lock. He made his way back up and took the higher path out into the light.

Another dragon had collapsed onto the roof. Its petrified body lie slumped across the battlements, its head hanging down on the far side of the building. More hollows were kneeling, hands clasped in prayer before the fallen creature. As he approached, a hollow solider climbed the far ladder and another leapt the battlements. The two were fast but fell just as quickly.

The roof beyond erupted into screams as another of the many hollows at the pinnacle were thrown aside. Another abyss creature smashed them apart and began screaming, clawing its way towards Caim. Balls of fire sent the creature screaming into dust.

A courtyard lay strewn out below. Built around a circular statue. Still armored bodies lay strewn about the area. Fires burned and flickered in the corners. Too far to jump and keep his legs. Caim scanned the roof and found a ladder leading down. He slid down the rungs to a wooden platform.

Inside the building, he heard the rhythmic clanking of armor. Another knight. This one with a tall tower shield and a long spear, paced inside the building. It didn't know he was there. Element of surprise would give him a real chance. He waited until it turned and began back down the room before stepping around and hurling a ball of flame into his back.

The knight was knocked down and Caim was on him before he could recover. Slamming his axe into the back and tearing at the old armor. He slammed the axe head deep and felt it tear into flesh and metal, knocking the knight to the ground. He got behind the warrior as it moved to stand and struck it down with two hands, finishing it before the battle started.

It was no honorable fight. It was dirty, despicable and underhanded. It was how his master had taught him. Honor was for the dead. Let the living concern themselves with staying alive. He kicked at the knight's body and found the gauntlets were still in fine shape. He picked them up and slid them on. Sturdy. Better than his wraps. They might even deflect a blow or two.

Testing out his new hands he walked down the hall at the far room. There was little in the room. Rotten wood and tables. The small hallway beyond was ripe with the shuffling of feet and distant groans.

To the right was a large room below him. Several large hollows moved around. It might have been a kitchen once. That was lifetimes ago. He counted his targets, guessing where the staircase would be and planning his attack. His mind only just caught the shuffling and growling behind him.

He spun and raised his shield just in time to catch the hollow's sword. His ally leapt from the room behind him, face long and rasping what might have been laughter.

"Get off!" he kicked the first one back getting enough room to bring his axe around onto its neck. The next one stepped back but he charged into the side room, knocking the creature down and finishing it with a single head blow.

The creatures had nearly gotten him. He cursed his own idiocy at not checking the side room first. The hollow had nothing on him but black blood now. Caim whipped aside his axe and kicked at a box. The wood shattered and he turned to leave.

A glow caught his eye. Shuffling aside the wood he kneeled the wreckage to pull forth the shining object.

A broadsword. Short, stout and gleaming. The metal was tarnished but the weapon was still in fine shape. A sheathe was nearby as well, still in one piece. The weapon felt heavy but comfortable. A few practice swings and it felt right in his hands. He tucked away the axe for his new weapon. "Finally have a sword. Not perfect but it will do."

He left the room and made his way down the stairs to the lower kitchen. There may be a way through or at the very least something of value. This time he was careful. He lured the hollows away one by one, using his precious arrows to injure them and drive them to chase him up the stairs where he held the high ground and cut each down, even the rabid dogs.

In the midst of the fight he rolled down the stairs and cut down the last hollow just as a firebomb struck his back, exploding and sending him to the ground. Caim screamed and managed to roll away as another hit the ground, blooming into flames.

Above, a hollow continued to chuck the weapons with abandon. The blasts drew the attention of the last hollow in the room, one wielding a great axe and Caim found himself stuck between the two dangers. He escaped. With a hasty fireball, a panicked block and frantic slash of his new sword, he defeated the enemies.

The room lay in shattered remains as he wiped his chin, panting. The estus had healed the injures but still he cursed his own idiocy. As he checked the room he did feel a sense of relief. The battle had been worth it. On a stone table, he found a shard from an estus flask. Down the stairs on a corpse he found and old key. Looking out, he saw a safe path down to the square. But first…

He moved back up the stairs intent on not letting something else slip away. Around the upper walkway, he smashed through some debris and found another hollow half asleep. He cut it down before it could rise and pushed its body from the chest it had been hiding. Clear out the area. That was the new plan.

Inside he found something worth more than gold. A solid metal shield. The simple kite shield felt familiar on his arm. Sturdy, practical but light enough to move easily. He felt better with the simple item. Its discovery even washing away some of the bitter taste of his recent mistakes. With his new tool and firm idea of what to do he went back to the balcony.

Below, the courtyard was shrouded in fog. Swords were stuck like grave markers and the armored shells littered the ground. Spears and banners lay driven and abandoned from a battle long since lost. The victor prowled the remains like a guard dog. The towering knight wore great round armor. Blue colors on his chest, small wings on his back and a massive halberd in his hands as big as Caim.

It paced the courtyard, walking with strength and confidence. Caim sized it, judged it and shook his head. "Can't beat that. Maybe, but I can't right now." If he could drop on it? No. that armor was tough. It might survive. His fire might do something but all it would take is one blow of the halberd and he would not be walking away. He didn't have much estus left. No, better to not risk it.

Running was the cowardly option. But fear of things like cowardice had long since been beaten out of him. Another thing his master had imparted. Running and living is not anything to be ashamed of. Only the living can pass along their tales and knowledge. Victory is surviving.

Caim waited and dropped to the stone below, staying low to the ground. He ran to the left careful to keep the fountain statue between him the winged knight. He waited and then bolted towards the gate across the yard, stepping around the metal graves around him.

The area beyond the gate opened. A grand cathedral to the left, familiar towers to the right. Trees still blossomed here. Their leaves fluttering in the wind. He had only a moment to look, and think on his path before the bolt struck him in the arm.

Caim staggered, cursing and turned to block the next flaming bolt from the hollow on the stairs. Burning with fire and anger he ran after the shooter killing him and the one that tried to attack him from behind with a single vicious chop. With those two disposed of he took one of his last drinks. This was not going his way. The cathedral was a bit imposing and he could heard the clink of heavy armor from that direction. Instead he turned back to where the crossbowman had been guarding.

Up the stairs and another set he found himself before a turret that led up to the high wall above. The wall above seemed familiar. He started towards the gate across from him. The lone hollow that turned to face him was soon joined by three others. The ensuing melee cost Caim his last shot of estus but he dispatched the hollows and entered the tower.

The rickey wooden elevator carried him up and through the gate. It was familiar. The first bonefire of the walls was nearby. "Best to head back." He muttered. He worked his way up the stairs and back to the bonfire taking a long rest.

Letting the estus refill he examined his sword and shield. They were tarnished and old but sturdier than what most of the hollows were swinging around. Tools of the trade. "Treat your weapons as part of yourself." He muttered, scrapping some blood from the blade. "But never forget they are tools. They can be broken and cast away. Never compromise your life for a tool."

The fire glowed in his left hand, curling into a blossoming flower of flame.

"Except for your pyromancy flame. That is your life given form." His master's words were old and he had cast away so much it seemed stupid to cling to the old man's words. Still, he owed the man his knowledge of pyromancy and combat. Gin had been a good man.

That was a long time ago. A very long time ago. The comforting burn of the fire in his chest helped warm him beside the bonefire. He left the fire and moved to the battements, leaning to see. Lords of cinder. He was supposed to hunt them down. Was there really a reason? It was his purpose. His destiny if he believed the fire keeper and the old legends. Rejoin the lords of cinder. Link the flame. Save the world.

Was this broken, ashen world even worth saving? Was there anything too save? The dead rot in the streets. The warriors had fallen. The dragons fell or had gone feral like the men around them. The gods had abounded them ages ago. There were no gods now. There was only the abyss. And fire.

Fire was his purpose.

He would see the lords of cinder to answer the call. He would keep he world burning. In his heart, he felt Hawkwood's words hit close to home but seeing the abyss encroaching on the world. The pus overflowing in men, the corrupted judge Gundyr. It needed to be pushed back.

Caim would do it. But first he had a key to use.

 **Author's note: Well this has been fun. If your reading this you've made it four chapters in. thanks. I hope you are enjoying this as much as I am.**

 **This note here has many purposes. The first is to thank you for reading. The second is to ask that you stay tuned and let me know what you think. Lastly, the note is to say that the story is still alive until I say otherwise. Updates however will slow.**

 **Over a three-day weekend, I wrote out five and a half chapters of this story, edited the three I posted before and put them up one day at a time. Now I have work again. Far less time to write and a lot more to put in the upcoming chapters.**

 **So, I will still be updating this for the foreseeable future, but expect a chapter a week, or maybe every few days. Stayed tuned for if I have my way, we will see Caim's story until the very end.**

 **Yes, I mean the VERY end.**

 **May the flames guide thee.**


	5. Chapter 5: Vordt

Caim rolled the key through his fingers. Journeying back to the bonfire on the tower wall he made his way down to the lower path and back to the locked cell. The key should fit the iron door and let him take whatever remained of the cells lone occupant.

He sat in the corner, a large sack-like hat pulled over his head. A thief's cap. A mark for criminals or slaves. The man sat cross legged in the corner, very still. For a moment, he thought he may have died in the cell and moved to unlock it. It wasn't honorable to rob the dead but again, honor was a liability he couldn't afford.

As the cage door swung in the man stirred. He didn't rise, only inclining his hooded head towards Caim.

"Ah you're no jailor, are you?" he asked.

"Pretty far from it." Caim answered. _Not dead yet then._

"No, no You're from far away. And judging by that bell… you must be some of that unkindled ash. Remarkable. If that's true then I have a favor to ask."

"I'm not really one for doing favors for strangers."

"Will you hear me out?" The little thief asked. Caim almost left the creature but nodded slowly. Let the creature have his words. "Below the high wall is a musty little town. Not the home of any lord just a very old settlement of undead. On old woman, Loretta, lives there. Please, give her this ring."

The thief produced a small blue ring from beneath his shirt, holding it up in a shriveled grey palm. Caim scrutinized the small bauble. Rings like this one often carried some manner of enchantment on them. Some kind of power. Not always a beneficial one.

"I-I'm not asking for charity." He stammered, pulling the ring back to his chest. "In fact, if you do this for me… I'll be sure to repay you in kind. I may be a petty thief but I've more wits than royalty."

"That's not saying much." Caim scoffed.

"What do you say then?" The thief held out the small ring in his shriveled palm.

He nearly turned away, leaving the thief to his fate. The cell was open, he could go where he would please. He was free to wander and plunder the walls of Lothric. He didn't owe any favors to this rat of a man.

Still… A kindness given freely is often repaid.

"Alright." He said taking the ring from the small thief. "I'll take the ring to her, if I can find her."

He nodded. "Very well, I humbly place my faith in you. I am Greirat of the undead settlement, and I promise to assist you."

"I'm Caim."

"Give the ring to old Loretta at the base of the wall. Do your part and I'll do mine."

"Agreed." He pulled one of the homeward bones from his belt. "Take this and use it to get out of here. It will take you back to the Firelink Shrine. It's safer there than here. Has more space too."

The little thief chuckled. "I suppose." He took the bone in hand. "Fair is fair." Then he was gone in a whirl of smoke.

Caim tucked away the little ring. He didn't trust it yet. He didn't trust the thief either. For the obvious reasons and the less obvious ones. Until he found the woman or returned to the shrine it didn't matter. He made his way back along the wall, past the winged knight to the great cathedral.

The circle of glass was majestic and beautiful, untouched by the horrors of war around it. The trees bloomed here, leaves drifting in the dying wind. The battle had failed to reach this far but the dead still marked the path to the church. The turtle like pilgrims were petrified on either side. A path of dead leading down the stairs and beyond the gates. It was a path of death connected to the church.

Two knights patrolled the walkway. One sword and one spear. Fighting one had been a challenge. Two weren't worth the resources to take down. Across the road was another set of stairs and walkway that led around the road towards the cathedral.

"That's my path." He waited until the knights both walked back towards the cathedral and ran across the opening and up the stairs. The path curved to the left and ran along the wall. Another knight stomped towards him from the far side. One knight with a sword was much easier to handle. He led with a fireball and rushed, kicking the knights shield into its chest and leaving it open to a punishing thrust.

The knight fell in a boneless heap. Caim moved past and down the far stairs. The two knights walked back down the body littered path and Caim took his chance to slip inside the cathedral's great gate. Inside it was dark. Sparse dim lighting hung in the massive ornate chamber. Columns support the great arches above and paths and railing cut across the edges of the room. The tiles were broken and empty, the red regal carpet faded and frayed.

At the far end, lit by two burning lights, was a woman seated in a chair. She sat in her chair, robes of dark purple covering her body and a hood hiding her face. She made no sound as he approached but she did move. She lived still. Waiting in the dark.

Caim approached slowly, his shield ready and his sword at his side. The air was thick and heavy with some other presence Something immense and powerful was watching but he couldn't see where. Its eyes were anywhere. Dark and pervasive. At least it wasn't coming from the woman. She almost seemed to not even be there.

She inclined her head as he approached. "Who are you?" He demanded making so secret of his weapon.

The woman chuckled. "Ahh, the wait has been long unkindled one. I am Emma, high priestess of Lothric castle. Allow me to speak frankly." She was old but not ancient. He couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at her mock regal tone. "You will not find the lords of cinder here."

"Gwyns beard!" He knew it wouldn't be that easy. "You know where they are then?"

"They have left. Gone to their churning homes converging at the base of this castle." She raised a single bony finger to point beyond the doors. "Head to the bottom of the high wall. Forge on through the great gate and raise this banner to proceed."

Her thin arm held out a long staff with a small flag banner on the end. The kind of flag used to signal during a battle and keep troops organized. Like everything else, it was faded and frayed with time. Caim took the banner and rolled it up, tucking it away. "This will get me down the wall? Where I can find the lords?" She nodded. "More running around chasing tails. Suppose I need to reach the wall's base."

"Head to the wall's base. Go through the great gate and raise the banner to proceed. But beware. The dog keeps a close eye on things. The vile watchdog of the Borel Valley." Emma whispered the last words with hate in her voice.

 _A watchdog._ He cast a final look at the woman seated in her chair. He turned away and headed out of the tall doors. The watchdog might be the seething presence he felt. Either way he looked down the path of the dead to the great gates below. Taking his path around the left again he slipped past the knights to the stairs.

Two more hollows with shields guarded the staircase. He kicked one's shield aside and drove it through. The second missed and he slipped behind, driving it on his sword and throwing it down the stairs. Nothing. Already dead hollows like these were no challenge. They didn't have the powerful fighting spirit to battle him. But any fight you walk away from is a good one.

Stepping through the open gate he paused. The air here was cold. White, cold mist blew through the air. The ground was cracked and misshapen. Cratered and gouged. The great door beyond was closed, red vines and roots having grown across the slight crack.

"The great gate she spoke of." He mused as he approached. The air here felt wrong. Corrupted. He neared the gate and paused. It was larger than anything he had moved before. Hundreds of pounds of metal and wood. He pushed, testing but the door didn't move an inch. It was too massive to move, even with his burning strength.

"How do I get past you?" he asked. He raised his pyromancy flame. "This could take a very long time."

The low guttural hiss sent a disturbing chill up his spine. He spun around. Mist obscured the gate he had passed. Slowly, a great form emerged, crashing and clanging across the cobblestones. A great white metallic knight, stomped across the yard on all fours. It was massive. Metal hands clawed at the ground. His great mace crushed the ground as he stepped towards him.

The creature drove its mace into the ground raising its head and bellowing a great, metallic roar. The air shook around it, waves of white smoke wafting from it and chilling the ground around it.

"The guard dog I take it." He drew out his sword and swung it around, loosening his arm. The creature crushed the stone beneath him. Caim stepped forward sizing up his enemy. "Big. Heavy. Faster than your letting on." He shook. " and cold. I fucking hate the cold." He stepped forward and charged the giant knight.

Vordt swung the heavy mace up and over. Caim dove under the attack, getting under the great beast and slashing at his arms. Then his legs. The armor held but his blade scoured lines in the smooth plate. Four quick strikes and the beast reared back on its hind legs, stepping back and dropping the mace.

The cobblestones shattered as Caim hit the ground rolling. Vordt roared and swung after him but he dashed away, running to get some distance before turning back. He watched the beast stomp towards him and sweep the mace again. Then another overhead. He traded two more swings, blocking when he didn't move fast enough. This thing was powerful but he was winning. It was predictable and slow. The air was getting colder though and that was the challenge. He couldn't fight this fight forever. The cold would get him before the creature's mace did. He couldn't draw this out.

He blocked a swing, digging his feet to keep from being blown away and dove under the creature, thrusting his sword up and tearing into the monster's under side. Armor rent and blood spilled across his arm. The creature howled, a metallic ghostly noise and ripped itself free of the weapon.

Caim turned as it drove the mace into the ground again, turning its head high and howling. Mist, white and thin like snow, erupted from its armor making a cloud around it. The air changed and got colder. _What is this?_ He wondered.

His answer barreled out of the smoke. Vodrt charged like a bull, legs moving at unnatural speed. He didn't move. He couldn't, and the creature hit him with the force of a raging giant. Caim was knocked from his feet, his head hit stone. Metal kicked and rent his side. He hit the ground and was churned under the hound as it ran over him, beating him with his legs at he ran past him.

Bones broke. Blood sprayed. His hand tightened on his sword, keeping the grip as his wrist twisted and cracked. He fell there, cold and bloodied. His strength was slow returning. He couldn't get up. The thunder of running got his attention. The beast charged him again, legs beating like hammers across the stone, towards him.

Caim rolled as the knight tore past him, turning the stone where he had been into dust. The rock covered in frost as the knight dragged its hand along the earth, turning sharply to face him again. Another challenging, metallic howl.

Caim spit blood, taking a large drink of his estus. Bones re-knit and skin regrew. The pain was intense, numbed by the cold. The ice was its own pain. Stinging. Not harmful but distracting. The damage after the estus drink wasn't crippling but his legs were still shaky

"Sorry for that." He said, though he knew there was no knight. It was an animal. It might have been a knight once. Now it was a feral dog. Mad and monstrous. But it was no fool to be underestimated. "I won't let you do that again. You can kill me with that mace but you don't get to trample me like some bug."

He slid away the shield pulling out his flame. Fire roared into his hand and he saw the creature's eyes drawn to it. Vordt charged, mace overhead.

Caim ran towards the weapon, rolling under the haft and slashing across the front right leg. His hand came around, slamming a ball of fire into the creature's side. The frost melted away and the metal turned a sharp orange. The next sword strike dug into the metal, tearing black blood across the floor.

Vordt screamed. It swung and leapt away. It planted it mace and drew back its head. The mist fused. Coalescing into a single point before its helm.

 _Breath attack_! Caim rushed. Never try to run from a breath attack, his master had said. Creatures like this can spread their attack far and wide. The safest place if they decide to unleash something like this is right on top of them.

Caim ran across the uneven cold ground as Vordt lowered his head, spewing a stream of ice. He dove under the dog's leg. A slash to the neck, another to the side. He gripped the short sword with both hands and drove it upwards, stabbing and tearing deep into the torn armor. He felt metal met flesh. A great tearing. Then stillness.

Vordt fell silent, skewered on the tip of his sword. The ice slowly faded, rising as mist from his skin and from the monster's armor. Caim stepped aside, letting the massive body fall with a thunderous bang. He watched the body vanish, turning to dust and breathed deep, taking in the lost souls the beast had held. Something else came to him. Not a lost soul. One that was small and flickered like a tiny blue flame. It was strikingly cold.

"Vordt." He said quietly, holding the soul in his hand. The body vanished, leaving only a crater. Beyond, the great gates groaned, shaking away their roots and cracking as they slowly opened of their own power.

Caim whipped his sword, flinging the black blood to the ground and sheathed his sword. He tucked the souls away. Then he helded his hand up, an old gesture that few remembered. "May the flames guide you, Vordt of the Boreal Valley." He prayed for the dead warrior and went on his way. He had wasted too much time on sentiment already.


	6. Chapter 6: The Undead Settlement

"Damn Demons." Caim cursed, stumbling across the high shattered wall. The lanky white imps were flying away now. Holding that banner aloft had drawn a trio of the creatures to him. He had nearly attacked them but the demons had snatched him quickly and carried him through the blowing wind to the shattered high wall below.

The bridge being destroyed had been disheartening but it had made it easy to scout the area below. A small village. A swamp. Towers. A cathedral. The land of Lothric was massive and sprawling. The lords would likely be a great challenge to locate, let alone drag back to the shrine. That was a problem for later. Now he had to get off the wall and into the settlement.

The stairs, though broken, made it easy to get below. Several idle grey hollows shuffled around the pathway. He stepped down slowly, waiting for any hint they were hostile. Two of them looked right at him and made no movement. They were lost then. So far gone they didn't even fight anymore.

He started past them to a great portcullis that blocked the path. The iron blockade would be too tough to destroy or move with force. Thankfully the release seemed to be just to the left.

"Sure is nice to be leaving the castle instead of breaking in." he turned to the nearest hollow, as if expecting an answer. "I'm already going mad."

Before he could reach the switch, the gate groaned open. He drew his sword, stepping back. There was likely no good to come of it. Caim was right. Feral dogs rushed through the gate, snapping and tearing at the hapless hollows. In seconds they had killed four of them and the animals turned on him. The dogs slammed hit his sheid, mindlessly attacking him. Ramming their heads into him. Each fell with a few quick strokes of his sword.

The last of the dogs ran away from the gate towers sets of cage carts. He chased. The animal turned suddenly, favoring the wounded leg Caim had slashed and lunged. Another block and strike and it fell. Two more came at the sound but they were quickly cut down. Panting but unharmed he took a moment to recover.

Ahead, the wall ended. The bridge that had once led up Lothric walls and castle was shattered. Covering the bridge was countless dead, petrified pilgrims. He stepped up, looking back and forth. Dozens of them, clustered near the edge of the bridge. Still and dead, failing just short of their pilgrimage.

"Poor dumb bastards." He didn't have much love for Londor but this was still nothing but a waste. If nothing else they fit in with the rest of Lothric. Still silent and dead, they were in the perfect…

 _Is that crying?_ He stopped abruptly and listened. Yes. Soft weak sobs. Scanning the pilgrims again he found one that was still moving. A single turtle shelled creature was shaking, trembling amid his dead kin.

"Please," The pitiful creature whined, its head pressed to the ground. "Grant me death. Undo my shackles." It whined between its shaking.

"You there!" He called, stepping up to the creature. "What is wrong with you?"

Slowly, the pilgrim turned, its hooded face turning to stare eerily at him. "Oh. Ohh, then it's true. A champion of ash, as I live and breathe." The man said, turning slowly with the aid of his staff to face Caim fully.

"Champion is new." He muttered.

"I am Yoel of Londor. A pilgrim, as you can see. Only, I've failed to die as was ordained." He sounded truly sad about that.

"Seems something to enjoy. Life is served living. You can only serve as you live."

"Ah, yes. Perhaps my calling lies elsewhere. Say, Champion of Ash, how does the idea of taking me into your service strike you?"

"What?"

"I was once a sorcerer. Surly I can be of use."

Pity was something Caim didn't enjoy feeling. It was a way to hesitate and it always left a sick slimy feeling in the back of his throat. But he did pity the creature. The only survivor for flames only knows how long. Desperate for purpose. Desperate to find meaning in a life that should be over. He didn't like the idea but he nodded. "I could find use for you. I, Caim, will take you into my service."

"Oh, I am honored truly." He said, his voice overflowing with pathetic joy. "I should be dead yet you have granted me purpose anew. I Yoel Londor do solemnly swear myself to you." He placed a tiny hand to his chest and bowed his hooded head lower.

Caim wasn't a fan of others bowing to him. Being called champion was grating on his nerves too. "Very well. Use this bone. It will return you to the Firelink Shrine. Others are there who are helping me. You may rest there."

"Thank you, Champion of ash." He took the bone, reverently. "I will await to serve you however I can." The pilgrim disappeared in a rush of air and Caim let himself sigh. Another one. Now he had another one to look after. How many fools was he going to take pity on in a single day?

The choice was behind him however so he struck the other from his mind and stared back towards the iron portcullis. The switch opened the great gate and he slipped through. There was another bonfire there where he set down to rest. The battle with Vordt had been difficult and he had yet to fully recover. It had also been a lesson. Never underestimate your opponent.

After taking the time to refill the estus and ready himself and he stepped towards the nearest building. It was the first in what must have been the undead settlement Greirat had spoken of. Two steps in, a great crack drew his attention. He looked over the cliff, out into the foggy expanse. Only after the second crack did he see it.

In the distance, perched upon a stone tower was a giant. A real, true giant with a bow to match. He drew back an arrow, more the size of a great lance, and let it fly, the bow string cracking the air like a snap of thunder with each shot. Whatever it was firing on, it was within the settlement. It wasn't in Caim's direction. Not yet at least.

"Hopefully you're friendly." He mused. The longbow he had couldn't compare to that thing. He couldn't match its range either. For now, it could stay on its tower.

He marched up the steps towards the dark house when two shambling figures walked out. The figures looked like field workers, in long simple farming clothing and carrying tools of the trade. A four-pronged pitchfork and a large machete.

He watched them until they moved to attack and rushed them. Both were staggered as he slammed into them. His sword lashed out and cut down the two workers in seconds. "Weak." He muttered. "Workers trying to be warriors. Almost feel bad." He stalked into the building. "Too bad I've already spent my pity for the day."

The building was dark. Dark enough that he pulled out his pyromancy flame to serve as a torch. Rotting wood and death filled the building. The boards creaked and groaned under his steps. Hanging from the ceiling were several cloth wrapped bodies. The stench of decay was intense and thick. Below, something shifted in the dark.

 _Not alone in here._ He moved to the stairs and looked below. Nothing stood on the landing below. He slowly made his way down, waving his flame to scatter the shadows and illuminate the dark building. More wrapped bodies swung from the ceiling, black blood dripping to the boards below. He brushed past one as he reached the landing.

The thud overhead was the only warning before he got. He dove ahead as the tiny creature fell from above, driving its dagger into the wood where Caim had been standing. It was a tiny, thin creature with a thief's hat pulled over its face. It looked just like Greirat, but this one was much more aggressive.

It lunged but its knife rebounded off his shield. The thief fell from a single stroke through its strange hat.

"Hope the other one isn't as violent as you are." He said aloud, kicking the body. Greirat didn't seem violent, but it didn't take much for someone to go hollow and turn feral. He left the dark building and stepped to the balcony that overlooked the yard. The stench of burnt flesh was thick in the air.

Below, a number of the workers were gathered loosely, all in attendance of a great burning pyre at the base of a large tree stacked with bodies. The flames roared and licked at the trunk. Kneeling before the fire was a taller creature in great heavy robes and a wide hat. It held a long metal tipped staff in one hand, watching the fires consume the bodies.

Caim watched. The larger one in the hat seemed to be reading from a book of some kind. As he paid more attention he began to hear her voice. A woman? Not the strangest thing he had seen. He pushed that worry aside and began sizing up his opposition. There were a lot of workers, if they were hostile like the others he would have trouble. But they were not that strong either. If he could get them one or two at a time he could manage.

He walked along the path, watching the undead in attendance below for any hint they were aware of his presence. Still nothing. He passed a another body hanging over the balcony's railing. This one, like one of the others inside, had something with it. An object that caught the light.

He tried leaning out to reach it but the body was hung too low and too far out. It didn't take long for a clear answer to present itself. With a quick swing he cut the hanging rope, dropping the body below with a heavy thud. None of the workers seemed to notice.

 _Well if they are that focused…_ Caim jumped after the body, bending into his fall. The impact hurt but less so that getting gutted alive had. Ensuring the workers hadn't noticed him he took the time to unwrap the body enough to pull the object of intrest free. It was a bone. A small pale bone that had been smoothed and many small holes drilled into it. The woman who was wrapped had it clutched tightly in her withered hand.

"Loretta." He read from the tiny engraving at the base of the bone. He checked the woman again. "Are you Loretta then? Shame. Guess I won't be giving you anything." He looked at the bone before tucking it away. He didn't owe the rat anything but he had promised to complete his task. If nothing else, the bone might prove to Greirat that the woman was gone.

The workers were still staring reverently at the pyre of bodies upon the hanging tree. With the big preacher leading them, they would be a dangerous fight. Past the gathering was a collection of buildings but off to the right was a bridge with its own hanging bodies That way he wouldn't have to go through the mob of workers.

Carefully, cautiously he made his way along the edge of the congregation and made his way to the bridge. Halfway across he was greeted by two more workers coming from the far building. Like the others they simply charged him, machetes raised. Using his shield to stave off their blows he cut each one down in turn. Inside the building two more rose from their resting places in the stalls and met the same fate.

He kept moving forward through the dusty old barn, aware of the bright light of the torches and the distant thrum of the giants bow. Another thief fell from the ceiling before he reached the door, this one wielding a sword twice its own size. The weapon was powerful but the creature lacked the skill for it and died quickly.

Outside the heavy doors, the settlement unfurled before him. A stone bridge led to his left and ahead he could see below where anther stone bridged crossed a chasm. Undead, small and large shuffled around as if in some mockery of what their lives had been. To the right was the great tower that seemed to be at the center of it all. His only goal for the moment.

He took the only path available to him, the stone bridge towards another grisly sight. Fires burned around and raised execution stage. Bodies hung or were crucified up stakes of wood. The open space before it was littered with dozens of covered barrels that almost blocked the path. As he neared he caught scent of something new in the air. Something that permeated the rotten stench.

"Blast powder?" he sniffed the first barrel. Indeed. The acid, sweet smell was the distinct scent of the powder used in bombs and explosives. Were all of these the barrels filled with the volatile substance? Dangerous.

A growl drew his eyes up. Three hollows stood on raised platform connecting two stone towers. With a howl, they all whipped their arms aback and foreword hurling bombs through the air. Directly at Caim and the numerous explosive barrels.

"No! No! No!" He didn't move quickly enough. The bombs hit before him and the barrels splintered open. In a rush of air and roaring crash they all erupted in a chorus of deafening explosions. Fire scorched his face and chest. The wave of force slammed into his chest, knocking him from his feet and into the stones.

Caim cursed and fell, the blast knocking him over the edge of the cliff. He tumbled before hitting the ground below in a boneless, broken heap. His body was scorched and cracked. The robes were in burnt tatters, his face bloody and bruised. Blood slipped between his teeth and every motion he made to stand made the world spin and throb.

So much was broken he didn't know if he could reach his estus flask to repair it. Rolling he pressed his forehead into the dirt and forced himself upward. His left arm still in decent shape. His right was scorched and more than one bone was broken. He couldn't feel one leg at all. The other he could feel only pain. Inaccurate, omnipresent pain.

A growl made him turn suddenly. A worker stalked towards him pitchfork held aloft to strike down. Cursing Caim rolled again on his back and drew forth his flame. He couldn't fight like this. He couldn't just turtle under his shield and expect to survive either.

He rolled right as the weapon came down and drove forward with his flame. The flash of fire engulfed the worker, setting his worn clothing alight and sending the creature creaming into the chasm below like a lost torch. Caim spat after him and slowly pulled his estus free from his belt.

He took two long drinks and screamed as he felt his bones snap back into his place and his flesh stich itself together. The burns faded. The pain subsided and he found his arm and legs responsive again. Still careful, he rose to his feet, using the wall for support. Estus healed physical injuries well but pain was still an affliction of the mind. The delirious state of mind brought on by the intense pain still made his mind fuzzy.

Above, the sounds of exploding firebombs continued to echo. The made creatures were still hurling their weapons with abandon. "Oh, I am going to rip you bastards apart." He vowed, slowly moving along the wall. Thankfully, he had fallen a short distance to a path just under the bridge. It ran along the side of the cliff face and ended in a stone arch cut into the rock. It would run under the stone towers. And, hopefully, lead him to the hollows that had nearly killed him.

Inside the arch in a large storage room, he found a welcome sight. A flickering bonfire. With a great relived sigh he settled down at the fire and let his estus refill. The bonfire would be a good checkpoint to use into the rest of the settlement. He took a short time to rest, enjoying the dark room and its quiet space. When he felt his strength had returned and he had cared for his weapons he stood and stowed his flask.

 _Time to see about those bomb throwers._ He crossed the room and stepped back out into the sunlight. The wood gave way to slick, fragile tile shingles that slipped and cracked under his light feet. The roof stretched out to the left. To the right, the shingles meshed with the wooden platforms built around the stone towers that jutted through the roof.

Caim moved carefully over the shingles, adjusting his shaky footing until he reached the wooden bridge. Moving to the edge of the tower he snuck a peek around the stone to the twin tower. The hollows were standing on the wooden bridge looking down below on the burning firestorm they had created. Caim looked at them, gauged the distance, and ran around the corner. He closed the distance before they could even turn. His sword bit into the first hollow, knocking it from the bridge to the earth below. The second staggered back from the first two swings, blood spilling as it fell to the wood.

The third was around the corner of the other tower. He ran, ducking a firebomb and drove his sword into the hollows abdomen, tearing it out of the side. The hollow fell into heap and Caim kicked it from the bridge. The small violent act was cathartic and satisfying.

"That sounds like a different sort out there."

Caim started, nearly falling off the bridge. The voice had come from around the tower. An old man from the sound of it. "Show yourself." Caim declared.

A chuckle. "I may find that difficult to accomplish. Come around here. Let's have a talk."

Distrust was part of life. Still, Caim's curiosity drove him forward. Carefully circling the tower, sword and flame drawn, he found one of the hanging pilfer cages. Standing ideally within it was a man wrapped in familiar garb. Pyromancer robes complete with a face wrap.

"Ah-ha, unkindled are we? Welcome to my abode." The pyromancer said with a laugh.

Caim eyed the old iron cage. It was still locked and gave the man little to no room to even move. He could turn about but could take no more than a half a step with his 'abode'.

"I am Cornyx, an old pyromancer. A crow in his cage, as you see, now. But here we are, an encounter for the ages!" The old man seemed far too upbeat, given his circumstances. "I hear the unkindled make for fine vessel. Care to learn pyromancies from this old man?"

Caim grinned under his crown. The chance to learn more pyromancy, even if it wasn't from Gin, was a welcome thought. He only had the simple fireball and if he could learn anything more it would only be a benefit. "I would like that. Learning more pyromancy. He held up his flame and nodded to the old crow.

Cornyx nodded. "Most wise. A chance encounter should not be squandered. To reiterate, I am Cornyx of the great swamp. The pleasure is mine."

"The pleasure is truly mine to have." Caim said with a bow. "Now, take this bone. It will get you back to the Shrine. You can set yourself up there."

"Very well." Cornyx took the bone through the metal bars of his tiny cage. "Seems a shame to leave this fine place."

"I promise, your future lodgings will be an improvement."

"I will hold you to that. I look forward to learning with another pyromancer." With a dry chuckle the man disappeared into a puff of smoke.

Caim sighed and turned away. Nearby was another axe much like his own. Simple made. Sturdy. He took the weapon and looked out over the village below him. A towering series of stone building to his left. The stone bridge below. There was still so much to explore. So much to find.

 _I need to rest. Return and regroup._ He made his way back to the bonfire below. The lords were not likely to go any farther than they had already. It was best to take the time and return. There were many things he needed to do and many faces he needed to reconvene with. He touched the hilt of the coiled sword driven into the bonfire. The world swirled and changed around him. It faded into mist. His mind however remained sharp and focused. His plans clear and cut in the front of his mind.


	7. Chapter 7: Firelink Interlude

Returning to the Firelink shrine felt like coming home. Unlike the Lothric walls or the undead settlement, the Shrine had an air of peace to it. Even knowing it wasn't true, since there were still feral hollows outside and more beyond, it was comforting.

There were many tasks that needed his attention. He first stopped with the Firekeeper, using the lost souls he had collected to strengthen himself. She informed him of the others who he had been sent here. The thief, the pilgrim and the pyromancer. Caim thanked her and she moved to sit on the stairs that ringed the lower pit of the Shrine.

Andre was next. He checked in and exchanged the shards he had found along with some of the souls he had collected. The broadsword was improved, sharpened and cared for. He traded with the shrine maiden, expanded his estus flask, examined her wares and bought some more supplies. When he was finished, he checked in with Cornyx.

The pyromancer was as jovial as before. Chuckling and joking with Caim about the chance to serve as the teacher to a pupil. Sadly, Cornyx had access to few pyromancies he could teach. The greatest were the flash sweat and great combustion. The combustion was a simple spell but the flash sweat would be useful.

Leaving Cornyx with a stronger pyromancer flame and a few new spells he checked in with Greirat. The little thief had set up shop just beside where Andre hammered away. Caim didn't relish the conversation but nonetheless it had to happen. He approached, greeted the thief and presented him with the bone he had found, explaining how he had come to find it.

"Heavens, she was already dead. Thank you. I-I'm not surprised though. Almost a relief really." He spoke quietly, his voice distant. "You can keep the ring. As, well, as a trinket of thanks I suppose."

"I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say. The thief merely nodded his head and returned his attention to the bone in his hand. Caim left the small man and went outside the shrine. There was something else that needed his attention.

The air was stale with ash and decay. The sun burning dimly in the sky. He left the shrine and turned right, exploring the upper levels of the shrine and cutting down a few resting hollows there. Going behind the shrine he found the sword master waiting for him.

Andre had warned him about the man and the firekeeper had also confirmed the warning. He was a masterful undead. Even in madness, he retained his skill. With a proper weapon in his hand, he strode to meet the challenger.

The warrior moved to meet him when he closed and moments later they clashed. The swordsman was fast and fierce. His sword slashing with rapid motions and hitting with more force than his thin body should have allowed. His movements were flawless and his speed dangerous. He carried no shield but rolled away from every strike Caim laid towards him. Even evading a ball of fire.

The two danced across the steps, back and forth, up and down. Their swords met and Caim stumbled away, off balance. In a flash, the master sheathed his sword and drew it out in a fierce, lighting quick slash. The blow met the shield but staggered him. The fight was a battle of attrition. For every scraping blow the swordsman landed, Caim matched him. The swordsman, with no armor, took the full brunt of the blows.

Side stepping an overhead slash he drove his sword foreword in a furious lunge, driving the weapon to the hilt in the thin man's chest. The master swordsman trembled once, his arm lifting but falling limp to his side, his weapon clattering to the rocks before he slid free, dissolving to dust. Caim breathed in the souls left behind, embracing the power they imbued in him.

With the threat gone he returned to the shrine with his loot. The sword was finely made but not of the style that Caim was familiar with. The curved edge seemed too brittle. He tucked it away. Perhaps it would be worth practicing with later. Right now, he needed a sturdy sword he could depend on.

He explored the rest of the shrine and found a few things. The great tree outside that loomed over the raised ground. The locked tower beyond it. The abandoned souls of the lost. And Yoel of Londer, hiding in a dark corner

The pilgrim had nearly slipped from Caim's mind. The decrypt, frail thing nearly cowered from him. He spoke reverently, professing his thanks at seeing the bonfires flame and offering his knowledge of sorcery, which he admitted was lacking.

"But perhaps more importantly," he said, head bowed. "I believe I can help tease out your true strength."

That caught Caim's attention. He stopped and raised a brow to the pilgrim. "What do you mean?"

"We pilgrims of Londor are keenly aware. That those branded by the darksign possess something quite special." Yoel held out his hand, something gathering and shifting there. Caim turned his eyes, focused, and stared at the dark.

It was like what he felt from the Firekeeper. Only as similar as oil is to water. The same but different in vast ways. The dark within the Firekeeper was immense and powerful. But it was distant and amorphous. A great deep dark within a deep lake. Touched at a distance you could draw what you needed.

Yoel held a dark ocean in his chest. Smothering and vast. Hungry and violent. The darkness was part of the water. It crept at the shore and tried to creep onto land. Darkness great and terrible, devouring and dangerous. Swelling and fighting at its bounds.

It was also power. Great. Powerful. Useable.

He could see the outline of control. The tethers that would let him wield this power as his own. It was not twisted with sovereign-less souls but tied to a single soul. A single willing host.

Caim turned away sharply. His breath came in ragged gasps and he stormed away from Yoel, ignoring the man's pleas to return.

"Silence!" he screamed, the voice echoing the quiet chamber. "Keep that darkness in the pit where you belong. Or I will not suffer your existence any longer!" He stared at the pilgrim until he bowed his head. Caim spun away and stormed away walking the shrine until his burning anger quelled.

He returned to the Bonfire and sat, curling near the flames and watching them crackle and spark. He folded his legs and placed his flame in his lap breathing deeply. The meditation was one of the first things Gin taught him. He turned his mind to controlling the flame, stoking it and channeling it.

The meditation was familiar and comforting. Not the great support he needed but it helped quell the trembling in his hands and the cold sweat that had broken along his neck. Pyromancy was all about controlling the flame. Bonding to it and bending it to your will as well as bending with it.

When he felt more in control he stood and moved around the shrine. He inspected the thrones around the room. Four empty, one with a lone occupant.

He had spoken to Ludleth on his first venture around the shrine and had found the old man a refreshing, calm and honest voice. The old man spoke of willingly accepting his place on the throne as a lord of cinder. Caim felt it was at least partly due to his lack of legs that made him incapable of fleeing his duty as a lord.

He approached the old man. "Hello Ludleth."

"Hello unkindled. To what do I owe this visit?" The shriveled, crowned man asked.

Caim rested beside the man's throne. "I have simply had a disturbing insight. I was hoping to clear my mind of these disturbances."

"I watched you meditate. A fitting way to quell the dark in one's own mind."

"I worry it had done nothing to help." He held up the flame in his left hand, letting the fire grow. "Meditating only brings up old memories. Conflicting memories and devotions."

"Conflicting?"

He exhaled slowly. "I became a pyromancer because I wanted power. I wanted the power to turn away the dark and I dedicated myself to mastering it. That dedication, that drive and my own poor choices killed me. I wished back then and I wish now that I was stronger. That I had the power in my hands to drive back any enemy. To slay any foe. I've seen that kind of dedication, that desire for power, give birth to the greatest of monsters. I want power, but I'm worried that taking power from any source might be damning."

Ludleth made a small humming noise. "Power can be enticing and damning as often as it saves. This I know deeply." He held up a finger. "Listen, this might pique thine interest."

Caim turned back to the old man, and inclined his head.

"Before I was a lord of Cinder, I was a student of transposition. The process of extracting and coalescing the essence of a soul. A forbidden art that once left a foul stain on Courlands honor. Tis an art that grants powers once thought unattainable. Most transposing kilns were lost with Courland, but this place is a crossing for all manner of cursed objects. if thou happen'st pon a transposing kiln, bring it to me quick."

"You believe this kiln may be the path to power I would need?"

"It is a forbidden art. But it is power. Whether you seek it or not, is your choice."

Choice. The word almost seemed like a joke. He didn't have any real choice here. He had to advance and find the lords of cinder. That or rot away into nothing. Then again, maybe rotting away really was a choice.

He stood on the ledge of the throne. "I will watch for a kiln." With no other words, he stepped off and fell into the ash below. In his mind, deep in the pit of his brain that burned with primal life, a small voice whispered. Not clear to his waking mind, but subtle and desperate.

 _I need more power._

 **Author's note: Sorry for the short chapter. This respite was needed however and I didn't want to tack it on with another chapter. The trips to the Firelink shrine for anything other than a single act will likely be their own chapters in the future as well.**

 **That said I am still writing longer chapters and enjoying it. Still a lot to work out and choices to be made. If you like or dislike how things are going be sure to leave a review and let me know.**


	8. Chapter 8: The Curse-Rotted Greatwood

The hard leather was a very different feel from the robes Caim had worn before. The leather however could stop an arrow or a sword if it needed. Mostly. He wore Greirat's blue ring, the pilfered gauntlets from the Lothric knight and his trousers. He had taken the time to refine the longbow and broadsword he had found and had parted with the other weapons. With these items in hand he returned to the undead settlement.

He explored the area controlled by the firebomb throwers first, happy to find a powerful fire clutch ring. Dangerous but something he gladly slipped onto his finger. The ring would give him some more power to his pyromancy. Power he quickly brought to bear against the next keeper of the undead settlement. The towering servant tried to crush Caim under a clay pot that had to weight twice what he did.

Evading the barbaric blows, he incinerated the creature with his stronger pyromancy flame. He was stronger now. More prepared. Returning to the house where he had found Loretta's body. The congregation was still there, led by the large beast in the wide hat.

Stronger or not, Caim was no fool. Fighting all of them at ounce was a recipe for his own death. He slinked around the edges, engaging the workers in pairs and cutting them down. Some fell to a single well placed stroke as they swung. Others survived the first and crumbled under the second. When all but the tall leader and the two closest were dead he faced them.

There was no way to know how powerful the leader was but he knew the workers. Conjuring his fire, he flung a great ball at each of the other guards, burning them and their aged robes to ashes. This finally gained the attention of the leader.

The great beast turned with a rattling of chains and medals. The preacher held the long metal staff in one hand, a heavy book in the other. Caim created fire in his hand and cast it towards the creature. The flames licked at her armor and charred her robes but she charged through swinging the long mace with one hand.

The wide arc hit harder than he thought, nearly knocking his shield aside. He rolled away from the follow up and got to her left, cutting across the preacher's side and spilling black blood onto the ground. The preacher was strong but despite his earlier fears she was easy enough to dispatch. He did receive a thump to the face from the heavy tome that staggered him but the mace was the real danger. One that was never properly employed.

With the leader dead, Caim swept up a few remaining workers that had wandered in during the skirmish. Once he was satisfied he swept through the area and made his way towards the buildings. To the left he slipped through a closed door. The room was almost pitch black. Light cut through holes in the wood and up from the floor below. Even in the dark he could see the bodies.

Countless cloth wrapped bodies hung from the ceiling, swinging ideally in a dead breeze. He brushed past them. The stench was an afterthought. The scent of death was so common to him he didn't even notice.

One of the bodies hung above the stairs held a glowing item he cut down to retrieve. Nothing special. Down the stairs, the dark opened into an open hallway. To the right sunlight filtered from the open air. The stone pathway led down to an opening. Walking slowly in the path was another worker.

Caim waited for him. In moments, the worker started looking up to meet him.

Glowing red eyes stared back. Fierce and alive with hate. The world dissolved and Caim's muscles tensed into iron. Memories. Hazy and full of fire rushed into his mind. The heat burned in his chest. Raging searing fire of anger. He abounded his caution and charged the worker.

The first blow caught on his shield but the hooked weapon the worker used curved around the metal, raking his arm and spilling blood. Caim dove into the next blow, cleaving through the creature's arm with a single swing. He abandoned the shield, gripping his sword with both hands and swung the edge through the worker's shoulder and heart with one blow.

The worker fell into a boneless heap as two thieves fell from the ceiling, knives brandished. Caim spun, retrieving his shield and killed the first before it could attack. The second missed entirely and he removed its head from its shoulders.

The heat died down as he forced himself to slow and calm. _You have a goal to accomplish_ he reminded himself, slamming the sword into its sheath. He looked to the sunlight outside and took a minute to feel the warmth of the sun before he continued down the hall. He flicked his pyromancy flame, burning the tattered body of the worker as he passed.

At the end of the hall a cage full of undead began to thrash and scream. As disturbing as it was it fell to a single burning fireball. He passed it and into the narrow street between the buildings. The battle began quickly. Several workers walked along the streets, one hid in the building to the left and attempted to surprise him. All the while, upon a raised platform another preacher with a wide hat chanted strange words and flung spiraling clouds of dark energy towards him.

He blocked the workers, cutting down what he could, rolling away as the clouds of dark, gnawing energy attacked. He dodged and rolled, evading and rushing under the bridge where the preacher could not attack. That seemed to offend the large creature as it leapt from the bridge to land in front of him.

The fall gave Caim an opening he used to lay into the leader, his sword scoring huge bloody swaths across the robes, splitting part of the armor and tearing at its leg before the preacher clubbed him with her book. He staggered and evaded a worker's hammer, pulling fire into his hand. Instead of the fireball he let loose a fire surge. The stream of fire consumed both undead and in seconds they fell to the ground, flailing and screaming.

The remaining workers were little challenge, neither was the one thief that tried to attack him while his back was turned. He chugged a few shots from the estus flask to recover from the hits he had taken. The magic that the leader had used combined with a few strikes had left him bloody.

Beyond the ally he found a broken stone bridge. A bonfire burned to his right and he went to it to rest briefly before standing. The area opened up ahead into a large open space marked with a white tree. To the right, a narrow stone bridge led across towards an iron gate leading into the stone. He checked it. Locked. No surprise.

Moving on he passed another towering servant this one with a great serrated saw. He was fierce and landed a few blows that tore at Caim's side. Still, he fell to a few well-timed slashes and a final thrust. He walked through the stone archway and paused.

The area ahead was a fragmented cliffside with a building at the for end of the path. The path was cluttered, almost blocked, with hundreds upon hundreds of massive spears. Thick heavy shafts and tips large enough to skewer a horse. Many hade bodies impaled on them hanging motionlessly. Before the building was a white birch tree, surrounded a tight bushel of the large spears.

"Hell of a battle I suppose." He stepped slowly onto the cliff face, watching to ensure the dead on the spears were truly dead. Before he made it five steps, several workers stepped around the rocks ahead. They wandered towards him and then began to move faster making low growls as they moved towards him.

Caim fell back, wary of fighting them on the narrow cliff. Poor footing could put him over the edge and to his death easier than any of their weapons. The three workers advanced, behind them were three more moving to intercept.

Crack!

The sudden thunderbolt like snap made Caim jump. He glanced away, trying to find the source. A moment later, it didn't matter.

The deafening crash engulfed the workers. A cloud of dust and dirt filling the air with a explosion of force. One of the workers careened off the edge. The others he heard screamed but the dust obscured his view.

As the wind pulled the dirt aside he saw one of the works impaled on a new massive spear. No. Not a spear. An arrow. An arrow as big as a man.

 _The giant!_ Another crack and he turned to find it. Far in the distance he could just make out the shape of the tower and the shifting shape of the giant atop it. An instant later another arrow struck the second group of workers. More screams and they fell away, dead.

Caim stepped forward, looking to the giant. "Are you helping me then?" he asked, ideally. The giant shifted again. There was another crack and he watched the arrow leave, arching into the air.

And fall towards him.

"Fuck! Not friendly!" he ran. The explosion behind him buffed his back. He didn't stop. He ran as he heard another crack. Those arrows were death. No shield would stave them off. He had to move. The building ahead was covered with the heavy arrow shafts but it had not caved it. It could weather the giants shots.

Another arrow exploded on his heels close enough to knock off his footing. He hit the white tree, tearing a branch with him and ran towards the door. Another worker blocked the doorway, jabbing with a pitchfork.

"I don't have time for you!" he gripped his sword and drove it hilt deep into the worker's chest, crashing into him and carrying both inside as another arrow exploded behind him. The dust buffered the room and distorted his vison. Old habit made him twist the blade to ensure the worker was dead.

Still he could not rest.

Sudden movement in the dark room got him quickly to his feet. Another of the accursed red eyed workers, wielding the same sickle blades. Caim evaded the creature's first attack, lashing his sword across the worker's calf before splitting it at the waist. The torso fell and a moment later, the legs.

Finally having a moment to breath, he stopped in the corner of the room panting. The explosions of arrows had stopped. The giant was clearly not firing randomly. No. Those had all been master placed shots, and at a distance Caim could just see.

 _From that tower, he must see half the settlement. Maybe even further. How has he not tried to kill me yet? Or kill everything?_ He brushed his armor of the dust and dirt, pulling the white branch he had snapped off. He paused, holding the smooth white wood.

White birch. There were old stories about their supposed power. The origins of the wood and its link to the great trees. He tucked it away, not willing to part with it nor admit anything to the part of him that believed.

Upstairs he found a harvesting tool. A long-handled scythe with a keen edge. Long weapons were favorites of Elaine's. She had preferred long arms to swords. Caim disagreed.

He hesitated before stepping out of the building into the light. He couldn't see the giants tower, so at least for now he was safe. He darted quickly to the stone awning ahead and slowed when he entered the safety of the stone archway. The giant would be a constant problem until he could be dealt with.

The thought jarred him slightly. Giants had been slaves for as long as he could remember. Assuming nothing had changed, the beast might just be the only free giant, other than Yhorm. He didn't like the idea of killing it but reasoning with a giant seemed like trying to kick down a stone wall. Just a good way to hurt oneself. He would have to kill it.

He stopped as the hallway split. To the right, a heavy set of doors. To the left an open courtyard of stone ringed with great looming trees. He stepped to the left, noticing the several workers dotting the area. There didn't seem to be anything else in the area but he stepped towards the center, spying the workers. The stone kept him safe from the giant so he moved forward.

The workers all seemed bowed or prostate before the trees. More of the mind gone hollows worshipping trees. He couldn't understand it but to apply logic to a hollow's actions was rarely a worthwhile endeavor. He moved behind the kneeling workers and struck down one before it could rise. He caught another but then the others noticed and began to rise.

One, another red eyed corrupted worker rushed him. He wasted no time, gripping the broadsword with both hands and driving it through the man's chest before ripping it out of the side and slashing his spine for the finishing blow. A pitchfork wielder attacked from behind and he deflected the attack, driving through the worker and into the next.

Then the area shook. He spun around as the grating scrap and crack of wood and stone echoed in the courtyard. The great tree turned.

"Well that's not fair."

As it moved its shape became more clear. It was a colossal tree trunk, rounded and bulbous. It supported itself with four long limbs of thinner wood. It seemed lean back, using the upper limbs to support itself from behind while the 'legs' were splayed outwards before it. It had no discernable face but there was a collection of round pustules between the spread legs.

The massive tree slowly lumbered towards him. The stalks of wood pounding the earth and shaking the land as the bulbous body scrapped across the stone. He stepped back, getting distance as the creature lumbered at him.

He could feel the malicious intent from the tree. Its leg reared high up before dropping like a hammer, shaking the ground like an earthquake. The blow killed a wandering worker and nearly knocked Caim off his feet. This was no time to gawk like a fool. He needed to defeat this thing. He charged forward, testing the leg with his sword.

The bark held like iron, making almost no mark and repelling his sword. He ran as the beast swung one of its massive arms, killing another worker that tried to rush him and throwing up a plume of dust. He dashed, getting behind the great lumbering tree.

Its bark was strong as steel. Even cutting deep might not do any real damage. There were soft spots. The round bulging pustules on its back. Some clustered on its limbs and lower trunk. As he turned he saw again the largest cluster of pustules between its legs. That was the best place to start. The only visible soft point.

He waited for the tree to swing its arm again. Its movements were slow and lumbering. Clumsy and easy to read. He ran under the arm sword ready and slashed cutting into the pustules with a sickening squish. The balls popped and split, spilling sick green ichor and puss across his arm and sword. He reversed, slashing again and then again. The infected sacks tore apart with wet tears as he swung his blade overhead and split the last of them with a violent eruption.

He jumped back, the tree giving a low keening howl and stumbling on its backside, legs in the air, arms flailing. He got some distance shaking off the sick smelling filth that had spilled upon him. He paused a safe distance away checking his enemy. It wasn't dead. Not yet. Slowly it rolled back to a sitting position. There were other vulnerable points to destroy before he would have a chance to bring the beast down.

The greatwood bellowed, raising up on its four limbs hefting itself up in the air before dropping. The impact shook the earth. The bulbous body cracking the stone beneath them. The rock cracked with a shattering thunderous roar. A plume of dust erupted between the stone, spreading out from the tree in a sudden burst. The rock suddenly shifted, dropping slightly.

"Oh no." Caim stumbled back and turned to run. Too late. The rock gave way and Caim became weightless, falling down among a storm of rocks. "Damn it!" he screamed as the greatwood fell with him, the two falling through the darkness.

Below, the area had opened to an immense deep pit filled with water and ringed roots and coffins. Caim turned himself, angling and preparing as he fell the impossible distance. The fall was deadly but he landed in the water throwing up a spray of mist and sinking into the wet ground, rolling and slamming in to the mud. It hurt to be sure but he did not feel any bones snap as he had expected. It almost seemed impossible.

As the deafening crash of his fall and the greatwood's landing subsided, he stood back to his feet. The water lapped at his ankles, wavering and rippling in the aftermath of the sudden onslaught. Bodies of workers dotted the shallow water where they had fallen too, their bodies twisted and broken. The greatwood turned towards him, the part he had begun to consider its front at least.

The fall had done nothing to stop it. It shifted on its limb legs before a new split tore in its abdomen where the pustules had grown. The crack split its front and with a sudden burst of motion, a long ghastly white hand erupted from inside the tree. Long claw like fingers flexed and slammed in to the water with force to send water ten feet in the air, the hand drew back and up, bent oddly and jutting from the living tree.

"What in the nine hells are you?" Caim said breathless, stepping back from the mutated tree. The new hand had white waxy skin unlike the hard bark of the tree. If nothing else, if looked more vulnerable than the tree's other limbs, but also fast and deadlier. Caim readied his weapon as the tree rumbled, splashing water as it shifted towards him.

He danced away. Keeping distance as he watched the trees movements. This was no time to be foolish. The tree rolled its whole body, slammed the water into geysers of mist, and finally, stood on its hind legs taking a single awkward step before falling forward. The white arm was pinned beneath it and Caim took his chance.

He closed the gap and felt his sword bite into the flesh of the arm. White blood spilled from the pale flesh as he sheared into it again and again. The tree moved, pushing back onto its hindquarters. The white arm swung and Caim got out of the way. Water splashed through the air and he rolled through the spray, shaking it from his hair. It was cold and he tucked away his shield, stepping away to pull out his flame.

The tree gave a great shuddering sigh, turning on him again. It fell on all fours, crawling quickly over him. Careful jumps and leaps got him under the tree but his sword could not find a solid hit. The hand was the only place he could target. Unless it gave him another chance he would have to make one. The tree spun violently, staggering and reset itself.

 _It's too big._ He observed. _Every motion, whatever it is, offsets it. It has to make a full second to recover. That's my shot._ He channeled power into his flame. The tree made another sweeping motion. Caim stepped through the spray of water and swung his flame. Steam erupted around him a blast of force as he hurled the fireball at the join of the white arm.

The flames took to the wood. Fire washing over the tree's bark and the ghostly hand. The spindly digits quivered and twitched as the fire seared the flesh. Caim sucked in a deep breath and huffed, spewing a burst of combustion across the pale hand. It spasmed uncontrollably and Caim leapt back.

The hand lashed out like a coiled snake. Clawed fingers wrapping around him before he could even scream. Clenched teeth and spitting curses he pushed against the crushing grip as the hand lifted him up into the air. Something popped. His armor cut into his flesh. The world rushed by a blur before coming to sudden painful stop. Water erupted around him before slamming into his chest.

Pain was blinding. The cold shocking. The impact had knocked the wind from his lungs and as he sucked in a gasp he choked on burning water. He stoked the flame, steam exploding around him and helping to throw him to the side. His feet caught under him and he rolled as the tree fell forward, trying to crushing him.

Caim staggered in the water shaking it loose. The tree turned, the white hand twitching. Spots had been burned black, ichor and blood flowing into the water as it loomed over him, as if watching. Caim took a deep drink of his estus. The tree was just the host. The hand was the real enemy.

The tree charged again. Caim sidestepped, waiting for the tree to turn and hurled a single fireball. The white hand smashed the ground and Caim lunged, tearing his sword through the pale hand. Blood spilled into the water and splattered his armor. He lunged away, getting distance and running across the dark pit.

The tree rolled, smashed the water and threw a tantrum. It was in pain. It was angry. Caim took in a deep breath and let it out as fire in his hand. The greatwood slammed across the water, throwing up waves with every step. Caim lunged and slashed tearing into the hand again. As the greatwood fell forward he hacked tearing deeper into the ghastly limb. The claws flexed, stretching the thin flesh farther. Caim sucked in a deep breath and blew out a combustion than enveloped the arm, surging back into the tree.

The greatwood shuddered, falling back the flames burned within it. The white hand thrashed, reaching fitfully towards the sky before it fell limp. The great tree sank back and with a great sigh slipped to the ground dissolving into a cloud of dust and lost souls. Caim breathed deep of the lost power, taking it into himself. As the body of the greatwood faded its body dissolving, Caim found a solid form drifting in the mist of souls.

He held out his hand and felt the greenish flame that settled into his hand. A powerful soul once bound to the tree. Within the fire, many smaller flames burned. Entwined within them he could feel countless festering curses trapped with the soul. It was mad. Driven insane by the weight of the curses inflicted upon it. He tucked away the festering soul and sighed. Pity again. It was coming around more and more.

The danger passed he took the chance to examine his new surroundings. The battle had taken them both deep into the ground. The hole was lined with roots, and dead. Bodies had been piled high along one wall, countless tone coffins piled on another wall. There was no climbing out but that didn't seem like it would be necessary.

At the base of the mound of bodies was a flickering bonfire. He touched the coiled sword and fed it fire, letting the embers burn brighter. Standing there he saw something else among the water. A round dark item of slimy lizard skin. He inspected the item over and again. It was dark and there was more within it that he could name.

"Transposing kiln." The words came to his lips without his will. Once he said it he knew he was right. He had no reason to know it. But he did. There was power here. Power that he could use.

 **Author's note: Sorry for the long delay. I was on vacation! If anyone else was at the Carolina rebellion I hope you had as much fun as I did. Now that I have sobered up and recovered I'm back to work. Both kinds. But I like this work more.**

 **Anyways, my nose is back to the grindstone now so expect more work from me in the future.**


	9. Chapter 9: Demons, Giants and Onions

Using the Bonfire in the pit, Caim returned to the bonfire under the ridge, below the now dead bomb throwers. He made his way back onto the sloped roof and across the wooden platform, dropping back to the scorched earth below. He hadn't returned to the shrine just yet. The transposing Kiln rested in his pack for now. Despite ludleth's words to return immediately. There was something more for him to do first.

Across the scorched ground, he walked away from the stone bridge to a cluster of huts that overlooked the lower grounds. Another wide hat preacher stalked the grounds. Several workers and dogs prowled with them but they were separated. Moving quickly, he engaged the workers, killing them and dogs quickly. The preacher noticed too late, leaving only the two of them to face off.

The battle was drawn out, the preacher displaying a new ability to enshroud herself in fire and try to grapple him. Caim evaded this new trick and continued to lay her open with his sword until the great holy woman succumb to her wounds and fell. He took the spiked mace from her hands. Too big and cumbersome for him to use well, he tucked it away.

Another path cut under the cliff and another stone bridge led off to the left. Several large servants stalked the area, holding their great stone pots at the ready. Caim left them and explored the hole in the cliff, wary of the last time he chose the stone bridge. The hole deposited him down a ladder into a wet, waterlogged sewer. The stench was nauseating. The water dragging at his shoes.

The arched stone tunnel led back into the hill. The end obscured in some strange mist. From the mist scurried three massive rats, as big as the dogs but even more gnarled and filthy. The creatures did not shy away. They skittered with excited bites and lunged at him with far more distance than their tiny legs should have been capable of.

His shield staved them off and each fell to a single sword blow. Vermin were still vermin, no matter the size. He claimed a small, dirty pair of cestus from a body that lingered in the water. He moved deeper into the sewer and the mist parted. A rat five times the size of the others lumbered into the light, teeth like short swords and eyes like glass.

The vermin attacked and Caim resisted. He took a blow from one of its gnashing teeth but struck the rat down into the water, letting the dark river run black. He left the dead rats and climbed a ladder, finding an iron gate and the dilapidated bridge. The bonfire flickered across the way. He took the chance to rest briefly before returning to the sewer. At least there he was safe form the giant's arrows.

Emerging back into the light he moved towards the bridge and drew out his bow. He could see two of the manservant hollows as well as another worker across the stone, standing ideally. He loosed the first arrow on the worker and let it charge to its death. The process repeated with the other two servants. One arrow, a frenzied duel, the hollow fell.

Across the stone he searched the surrounding area, collecting a few more loose items before rounding the cliff. The stone tower loomed above him. He was too close for the giant to have an angle with which to shoot him. It was now a matter of finding a way up the tower to deal with the giant.

Before the large doors of the tower was another soul. A stout man in heavy dark armor sat upon to the stones to the left, seemingly guarding the iron gate to his side. As Caim approached he inclined his head, covered in a stone, dragon head helm.

"Hmm. Another one of these unkindled, are you?"

Caim remained silent, watching the man and his enormous hammer. That weapon would kill him in a single blow. Shield or now. Could this man even move it?

He continued to speak. "All you faceless undead behaving as if you deserve respect. Hmph, no matter. Heed my words. if you've any sense You'll go find a coffin to huddle up inside. You here, in this land of hollows, You're like a frail maiden on the frontlines."

"I'm capable enough." Caim hissed.

"Then, if like the others, you're fool enough to play the champion go on ahead. Traipse right past the abandoned church."

"I'll make my way." Caim said, turning towards the tower. "Better than listening to an old, sad hopeless man."

The hammer knight scoffed. "Hopeless, the lot of you. Like moths flittering towards the flame." Caim didn't turn and instead let the man's words roll from his back. Just another hapless case like that fool Hawkwood. Caim had his quest and his resolve. It would take him as far as he needed to go. He stopped and struggled on the door before managing to shove it open.

The interior of the tower was well lit and in surprisingly good shape. It was also devoid of any other door but a single wooden elevator was connected to the towers top. "There is my path." He drew his sword and climbed the stone steps. The platform would take him up to face the giant. The best bet would be to push…

The platform rattled and rose on its own.

Caim stopped short. The gears turned and rattled, carrying the platform up into the tower. As the machinery cranked and clinked he watched as it moved. _Its bringing another platform up._ The two part elevator was bringing up another platform. Either the giant was calling the elevator up, or someone was riding it up to him.

Caim stepped up, shield up and sword ready. Whatever… whoever stepped off the elevator, he would be ready to cut them down.

The platform rose suddenly, clicking into place with a rapid motion. A knight in full shining plate stood on the platform. The armor was round, making the man seem fat. The helmet shaped vaguely like an iron onion that completely encompassed the warriors head. He carried a long Zweihander great sword on one shoulder. The other arm strapped with a small spiked shield.

Caim waited for him to make the first movement and show his action. With a causal, oblivious care, the knight stepped from the elevator and then turned, looking at it.

"Hmm." He made no other noise beside a mild hum. Caim shifted in place, making noise on the stone. He didn't turn. He made no inclination he had even noticed the armed pyromancer standing five feet away from him.

Caim stepped closer, wary of a trap. The warrior continued to stare at the elevator. His helmet tipped to one side like a curious dog.

"Hmm." He repeated.

Caim tapped his foot. Still no response. "H-Hello?"

"Hmm oh!" The knight turned, not quickly as thought startled by the sudden appearance of an enemy. But as casually as if a friend had just walked in. "Pardon me, I was absorbed in thought. I am Siegward of Catarina."

Caim slowly stepped away, lowering his shield but not sheathing his sword. Not yet. "Caim. You get lost in your head often? It's a fine way to get yourself killed."

"To be honest, I'm in a bit of a pickle." He said with a laugh. "Tell me, have you ever walked near a white birch Only to be struck by a great arrow?"

The image of the falling arrows, as large as a man, made Caim nod. "I have. Nearly killed me."

"Well if I'm not mistaken, they come from _This_ tower."

Caim's face fell into his greatest disdainful scowl. "I realized that already. The giant on the roof is a big clue."

"Whoever it is, I'm sure I can talk some sense into them." Siegward continued as if he hadn't heard. Caim frowned further. _I take it back. This is the real fool._

"But I have to find a way up." He continued. "And that's just the trouble. This lift only goes down you see and… well that doesn't get me anywhere. Hmm."

The onion knight seemed to have been lost in his own thoughts again. Caim considered pointing out that it was a double tiered elevator. One only had to step on the plate and step off before the platform departed. It seemed that the strange knight would hear nothing but his own ideal thoughts.

Caim stepped forward. Empty headed knight or no, he had to proceed. He stepped onto the platform and waited as the elevator carried him down. It was a short trip to the lower level. The dark tunnel curved, large and cavernous. Fire flickered in the corners giving enough light to make his way.

He moved down the path slowly, exploring the tunnel. Around the curve it opened up into a larger chamber, four thick brick pillars supporting the room. A small set of stairs led down to another set of enormous doors. Before the doors, barring the way was another knight. Caim didn't need to talk to feel the malicious intent from this one.

It wore silvery blue armor, close fitting to its thin wiry frame. Both legs and its left arm on the ground while its right held a crystal blue longsword to its side. It crouched low to the ground like a panther ready to leap. The air around it was chilled, misty blue. Like Vordt. The bestial stance reminded him of the guard dog as well.

"Nope." Caim turned his back and walked back towards the elevator. Surly he would need to pass this creature but at the moment he wanted nothing more than to hide from the crippling cold. His mind was not ready for another chilly battle with another ice knight.

The elevator was gone when he returned. A good sign that Siegward had managed to use the elevator and reach the top of the tower. Doing what the onion knight should have done, he stepped on elevator and quickly jumped off. Sure enough, after a wait, the platform came down from above and settled into place. Caim stepped on, sword drawn. There was a giant to kill.

"Hmm."

"The hell…?" Halfway up the tower a voice echoed over his shoulder but spinning around Caim found the lift empty save for himself. He waited but the noise did not return as the elevator clicked into place in the top of the tower.

The small round room was in finer shape than may other things though its color had faded. A set of circling stairs led up and Caim moved slowly up the stairs. There was no sign of Siegward. No body or blood. While the man was a fool Caim didn't wish him dead. The giant on the other hand…

He stepped out into the sunlight and stopped. A towering giant, three times his own height and twice as wide turned his helmet down to stare at him. The element of surprise was gone but he paused. The great bow, as big as the giant himself, saw against the wall to his side. A pile of the great arrows set along his other side.

Caim paused, waiting for the giant to move. He didn't. His head tilted slightly to one side. "Who are you?" The creature asked, its voice reverberating in his chest.

 _It can talk?_ "I'm the one you've been shooting arrows at!" Caim snapped. "You tried to kill me for no damn reason."

The giant was silent for a moment. "Make peace?" With a slow motion the giant held out its hand. Curled in its huge palm was a long white branch like the one that had clung to his coat. Slowly, watching the giant for any sign of violence, he took the branch in his hand. Turning it over, he saw it had words carved into it.

"Good friend. No hit." He read before looking to the giant. "We are at peace then. No more arrows?"

The giant nodded. "I help anytime." He touched the great bow softly and turned his eyes back towards the area beyond.

 _It cannot be that easy._ The branch seemed a promise of some kind from the creature, but could he trust the beast to keep his word? If he wandered out and was struck with an arrow without being aware it would be the end of him.

But there was an earnestness to the giant's tone. A gentle solidarity in his simple voice. Caim sighed and tucked away the branch. He clapped his hands together in the old salute. "May the flames guide your arrows giant." He turned. "Away from me." He whispered.

The elevator rattled down and again he heard the soft hum. Hearing it again he knew why it was familiar. _Siegward._ He saw the knight briefly on a platform between the two levels. He stopped for a moment before sighing and turning back stepping on the platform again.

 _I'm an idiot._ He cursed his damn curiosity as the second platform passed and he dove off the elevator. The wood held as he rose to his feet. The light filtered in from the outside and Caim slowly walked out of the tower's confines. Siegward sat ideally on the stone lip looking at the burning structures below them. Caim stepped up beside the knight as he sat on the stone and stared with him at the burning buildings below.

Siegward started. "Ah, oh! Don't disappear like that! You had me downright worried!"

"I stepped on the elevator in front of you. How is that disappearing?"

"but thanks to you an epiphany has struck me square in the head. I've unraveled the riddle of this inscrutable lift." He laughed as if it was joke.

Caim sighed. "I figured it out myself. Even had a talk with a giant. Seems we won't have to worry about arrows. I hope. Seems you fell a bit short of the mark thought."

Sieward laughed. "Yes. On some days I begin to doubt myself. I went up the tower, so I thought, then somehow ended up here. I'm not exactly sure what happened."

"Best not to worry. For now the giant seems to be have been placated." Caim looked down. The tower ran against a sloped building. The roof led down to solid earth, a slopping hill that ran into another series of buildings. The buildings were wreathed in flames and draped with bodies.

The source of the fire stepped around the road and Caim felt the blood leave his face.

"Do you see that?" Siegward asked. "That humongous beast?" Caim nodded. "I'm no coward and I've a steady hand but that thing makes my skin crawl."

"It's a demon." The demon stomped across the dead land, a great burning axe made of the same burning wood as its body in its great hands. Huge horns jutted towards the sky from its elongated face. A fire flickered in the crown of the horns. Small fires sparked in its wake, burning the world below. "A chaos demon like the old stories. I thought they were all dead. They should be." He growled.

"Now now. Think twice before you go down that road." Siegward said calmly.

Caim took a long breath. The demon was dangerous to be sure, but it was also blocking the only way forward. The elevator was gone. There were no stairs. The only way was through the demon.

 _If I can't kill this. I'll never defeat the lords of cinder._ With a howl he leapt from the roof and slid down the slanted roof. He hit the earth with a thud, drawing up his sword and shield. The pyromancy flame would be useless. This was a battle of steel to fire.

The demon turned and bellowed a challenge, spilling molten fire from its maw as he charged, raising its great axe.

"No!" he heard Seigward call. "You should have waited!"

"I will handle this!" he screamed, rolling to meet the demons first swing. The axe cratered the earth, turning it black where it burned. Caim lashed out with his sword cutting burning blood from the demon's legs. The wood cracked and flaked off like dead scales. The demon roared and stepped back, bringing the axe head around. Caim rolled away getting some distance as the edge hummed through the air.

"Very well. I Siegward of Catrina will fight by our side. Ahhh!" The battle cry seemed to make the demon pause as well as Caim. The knight charged down the roof, sword held high. Caim didn't waste the chance charging and cutting the demon's leg again.

Siegward collided with the demon, crashing with his heavy sword and digging into its chest, tearing a spray of red molten blood. The demon roared and swung, smashing where Siegward had stood.

Caim cut into the tail, dancing away as it swung around the weapon scalding his shield with a grazing blow. The pyromancer staggered under the demon's strike. The follow up scrapped stones into the hair turning them into molten bullets. The axe struck and threw him through the air. Burnt flesh and crushed bones screamed as he tumbled over the ground.

A heavy drink of the estus got him back on his feet as the demon knocked Siegward back as well, roaring his defiance, he launched into a series of heavy, punishing attacks. The demon held up his axe fire surging within him. Siegward took the opening burying his great sword in the creature's abdomen. He didn't see the danger. Caim did.

"Sigward, get out of there!" He screamed. He couldn't rush in. Not now. It was too late for Siegward. The demon erupted in a searing blaze. Fire erupted from its skin, blowing the knight off his feet and across the ground. Wood turned to ash and the ground scorched black. The blast shook the ground as the heat flared out in a geyser of destruction. Caim ran into the flames.

His first lunge connected, tearing into the bark-like skin. The skin split and cracked and he tore his sword free slashing at the creature again. The axe fell with terrible force but he pushed closer. The weapon gave him incredible strength and reach. Reach became a liability at this range. His sword flashed in two more quick strikes, cutting at the demon's core. Fire roared from its crown and surged in its skin.

"Yaah!" Caim slide aside as Siegward's sword dug into the demon's limb, cutting deep into the hard skin. Fire flared. Wood shattered. The arm began to crack and faltered. The demon howled, spitting fire. Caim slid behind Siegward, his shield deflecting the demon's axe and his sword cutting the hand. With a final howl Siegward leapt and buried his sword into the demons chest almost to the hilt. Caim shifted stances and swung low, the sword tearing through its leg up through its groin.

He pulled back, watching Siegward wrench his sword free as the demon's fire faded and died. The beast fell back, slowly dissolving into dust and smoke. Before the body hit the ground, it had disappeared. Caim took a deep breath of the lost souls that had fled. Ash, soot and the scent of death filled his lungs.

Panting, he looked to his impromptu ally. Siegward, despite his own ragged breathing seemed little worse for wear. His armor was blackened and dirty but otherwise had weathered the damage well. _I need some better armor._ He thought ideally as the other unkindled knight plopped loudly onto the ground.

"That was quite a performance." Siegward huffed. "But you mustn't get in over your head. We unkindled must put our duties first. But for the moment we've a toast to make." Reaching into the pack at his back the onion knight pulled forth two wooden cups, the tops sealed with skin and wrapped in twine. He held one to Caim who slowly took it.

The brew was warm in his hand. Not the ambient heat of a body but surging with its own heat. Caim removed the lid and sniffed, squeezing his face. "Alcohol?" The strong brew had a mix of spices and scent that assailed his nose. Sweet and cinnamon. Spice and smooth. The scent was so different from the ever-present scent of decay and death that it shocked the pyromancer, making him shake his head,

"To your valor, my sword and our victory together." Siegward continued, holding his mug up. Slowly, warily, Caim held out the mug and tapped it with Siegwards. "Long may the sun shine! Ha ha ha!"

Caim stared down at the strange knight seated before him. Happy. Jovial. Drinking to such a minor victory as defeating a beast that barred their way. Talking of honor and duty. Of valor and reasons while drinking in this dying world. Celebrating. Like a fool.

Caim laughed.

Not the sardonic chuckle he often gave or a scoffing snort. True, honest, full bellied laughter. It was a strange sensation, one he had not felt in many, many years. He laughed and finally sat in front of his ally holding up the cup. "Long may the sun shine. And our paths be safe."

"Here here!" Seigward answered.

Caim downed the drink, feeling its warmth spread into his muscles, his belly and into his bones. The heat was comforting. He laughed with the knight as they sat on the battlefield drinking and conversing. It wasn't much. A small talk among allies. A tiny celebration for what amounted to such a tiny task. But Caim laughed, for the first time in years. Something in Siegward just made him feel more at ease.

The two laughed and drank on the burnt earth. Caim enjoying a brief respite in what he knew was only the smallest part of his great journey. Thankful, however brief, for the respite.


	10. Chapter 10: The road of Sacrifices

Siegward passed out after a short time. He declared a nap was the only way to follow up a toast and soon fell asleep, sitting on the burned field of battle. Even shaking him, Caim couldn't rouse the warrior and decided to let him stay. It wasn't safe, nowhere was, but with the demon gone it would be safe enough. Besides he would ensure there was nothing left.

Down the hill a massive pyre burned made of trees and staked bodies. Dead were littered and burning around the large houses on the hill. More bodies hung above swinging on ropes while wrapped in cloth. Bodies speared on wood or spread on torturous wheels were hung about the large courtyard. One of these bodies was still clad in full set of fine, if weathered armor that Caim relived him of.

He searched for a way forward. With no path back where he came he explored the buildings. The two largest connected by a single bridge. Inside was a harrowing sight. Dozens of the pilfer cages stuffed with bodies. He saw some move, even as the cages swung from the ceiling. He kept his distance and when he needed, he hurled balls of fire to destroy the abominations at a safe distance.

Across the bridge, the second building erupted in chaos as several caged hollows dropped from the ceiling in a chorus of screaming. He forced his way from the room and killed them off shaking off a cold sweat as he made his way up stairs and confronted two of the preachers.

The building reminded him of home. Far older and decrypt but he could feel that people lived here once. Carving out their little lives. Lives that were now over. Long lost and turned to dust. Bodies still say in chairs, stone branches erupted from their heads. Taking the tricky stairs to the roof he looked up to the swirl of crows that circled the dead village. The giant archer stood upon his tower, vigilant.

The roof held what he needed. A small white ring and a path to a stone tower. With a precarious leap, he landed on the stone battlement. He collected a set of armors, a fine vest, and moved inside. The interior was dark and scarcely lit. Worse, there was no ladder and no stairs. Only a drop of at least twenty feet. After searching thoroughly and finding no alternative, Caim took a deep breath, drank of his flask and jumped.

He hit the wooden beams on the way down, aiming to break his momentum and succeeded enough that the fall mealy broke one of his legs. He hit the stone, screaming and cursing through clenched teeth. Moments later, he pulled the flask back out and downed another drink. The bone regrew and the skin healed over in seconds but the pain lingered.

Still cursing he stood. The room was small and packed. He found another ring, a dull green chloranthy ring that reminded him of Eris. It was a small trinket but a fine one to him. Stepping to the ledge he gazed down to the familiar sight. The stairs below led to where he had fought the great wood. The other way, they led back towards the stone bridges and the place he had found his pyromancer teacher.

 _Everything is a circle._ He thought, shaking his head. If nothing else, he welcomed the chance. Jumping down, he returned through the great doors and explored the area that had once been too dangerous due to the giant's arrows. Safe now, as the giant fired nothing, he collected a pouch of ashes from a corpse, a set of armor from a cleric, and the head of a thief wielding a great sword.

He made his way back to the tower with the giant and down the elevator. It was time to remove another obstacle. Down the dark tunnel, he stepped into the large hall where the frost knight waited like a patient guard. He took another deep drink of Siegward's drink and tossed the mug.

The clatter drew the creature's attention. The knight turned on thee limbs, armor clinking and scraping on the stone. Caim stepped forward, hand raised and let loose the fireball. The knight leapt through the fire swinging madly. It was fast as a striking snake. Beguiling its size. Vordt had been slower. This knight sprang like a coiled spring. Going from nearly still to snapping quick strikes and lunges.

The frost sword struck hard and every blow sent shivers through Caim's chest. Even catching blows with his sword, he felt the bite on his skin. He scored a blow on its left arm but the armor only bent. There was time for pyromancy. No space given. Retract was met with a swift leap and punishing slash.

The sword bit into his abdomen, ripping blood across the floor and burning with the stinging cold. Caim screamed in pain and defiance. Rolling over the next blow and landing a firm thrust into its side. As the knight spun he rolled into its motion as the sword slammed the ground. His sword scored another blow on the free hand. Pale blood staining the armor.

It was fierce and powerful but feral. Feral intensity brought strength but robbed the creature of tact and poise. His shield caught another blow, then another savage overhead staggered him. He rolled away from the next hit, feeling the sword catch his leg.

He slid around one of the pillars taking a quick drink of the estus and savoring the warmth it burned in his chest. The fight was dragging on. The cold was getting worse. He could let it drag out any longer. He waited for the knight to round the corner and charged, his sword splitting the helm with a heavy handed blow.

The knight hissed and thrust his icepick blade. A subtle twist he learned from Gin turned the sword away. He found his opening and thrust, driving the sword to the hilt into the knight's chest. It pulled away, hurt and reeling. Shifting his stance, he swung upward, the blade cleaving through metal and flesh. The knight's helm splintered and fractured, spilling pale blue blood. Mist escaped its armor and slowly, the knight fell to the ground fading into nothing.

Caim sighed and sucked in a breath taking the souls into himself. The floor was unmarred by the blood but the knight had left his weapon behind. The pale blue sword was cold to the touch and uncomfortable in Caim's hand. Still, a magical weapon of frost could be useful. He tucked the weapon away, thankful to be rid of its evil chill.

The doors resisted but gave under Caim's force. A respite waited in the form of a bonfire just beyond, nestled in the dead leaves. Caim rested, refilling his spent estus and chasing away the lingering cold by the flickering heat of the fire.

He took the chance to examine the armor. It was a fine hard vest with large hard shoulder pauldrons. The dark armor had an intricate detailed engraving across the chest and along the shoulders. The hip had a long blue cloth wrapped for a belt that hung down like a cape. It has harder than the leather armor he got from Greirat. It fit well and he knew it would serve well.

Rested, he made his way down the path. If the information he had gathered was right he should be entering the road of sacrifices. From here the Farron woods would be ahead. The first goal. The trees were gnarled and twisted things sunken into a damp and shifting earth. He followed the path down and into an open area.

Abandoned carts lie near a deep pit to the right. The earth was churned and twisted here. Small cliffs and slopes rose and fell on either side. Leaves on the ground crunched under his boots, and death was, as always, ever present in the air.

Up the path he found the first of the decrypt creatures called the corvians. The creature looked up with an elongated face, wide sunken eyes and a body covered in shriveled feather and too tight grey skin. It looked up, clutching its twisted curved knife to stare at Caim. It screamed. High, shrill screeching that made him recoil in pain.

With a series of sudden, violent cracks, wings burst from the creature's back. One then three then a fourth. Another piercing howl echoed in the empty canyon as the scrawny beast lunged, flapping its wings in a mad vain attempt to fly. Caim rolled aside as it fell, plunging the knife into the ground. Before he could retaliate it attacked again. Its swings frenzied and frantic. Every motion accompanied by a mad screech.

He waited. Blocking and rolling until he got inside its reach and drove the sword up into its side. The following blows took one of its wings and finally sheared through its neck dropping the bird down to be silent and still. He took a drink of the estus, healing the lashes he had taken when charging it.

Below, he saw more of the creatures. Prostate and still on the ground they lacked the wings just as the first one had when he had approached it. _Rush them._ He thought, the plan forming in his head. They had seemed immobile while the wings grew. If that caused that frenzy best to kill them quickly.

He fell from the cliff face plunging into one corvians. He charged a group of two. Sure enough, they too began to rapidly grow wings from their backs with sick, painful cracks of bone. The first was dead before it grew the second wing. The second one grew all four wings and screamed only to have the call cut short by Caim's sword through its head.

Another corvian stood upon the nearby hill. This one holding a long staff instead of the long knife. Also unlike the others it stood on its hind legs, wings grown and spread behind it. He watched as the creature took notice of him and swung its staff spilling a cloud of dark purple mist between them.

 _Poison._ He could smell it in the air even as this distance. A virulent venom dispersed in the air. It dissipated in seconds, letting him see the creature again. It was calmer than the others but slower. He faked a step that made the elder corvian release another mist of poison. He waited until the air began to clear and ran, closing on it in a flash.

The elder corvian didn't have the melee prowess of the others. A few quick swings sent it hurtling over the cliff and into the chasm below. Caim scanned his paths and jumped to a lower plateau, moving along it and around a rock formation. A stone bridge loomed above him but another path led down and to the left he started down and topped suddenly.

A woman, scarcely clad was walking up the path towards him. Her face was hidden by a hat like the thieves wore but her lack of clothing made it clear she was a woman. In one hand she dragged a great single edge cleaver like blade.

"Who are you?" he called down. She didn't pause he slow walk. Not raising her head to see him. No words. "Speak!" he demanded, stomping to try and force her attention.

She lunged.

The blade split the earth and threw up a splash of wet dirt. Caim rolled to his feet, dodging the attack by an inch. The woman turned and continued her slow stalking gait towards him. Her free hand came to scrape at the blade, peeling away the dirt and bits of red that clung to its chipped blade.

"No sense left in you is there?" he asked, raising his guard. "nothing to be done then."

She charged again, the blade coming down in a vertical arc. He sidestepped and stepped in, his sword cutting deep into her side. Blood spilled from the wound. The lack of armor making it a deathly blow.

She swung the cleaver, seemingly oblivious to the wound she had taken. Caim blocked the heavy swing but her follow up was quick and savage, reversing her swing she caught him in his sword arm. The blade cut through his armor like it was paper, ripping into his flesh and knocking him to the ground. He cursed and rolled to his feet. The woman struck again.

His guard faltered and the cleaver cut into his chest, ripping through leather and flesh until he felt it strike bone. Blood splashed his face as his collarbone was cracked under the impact and his chest torn under her attack.

 _Damn!_ He kicked her away and stumbled away. The cleaver coming free hurt almost as much as it did going in. Flesh tore, his armor ripped, and blood was thrown free. He chugged from the estus flask, letting the burn wash away the taste of iron on his tongue. His chest sealed and his arm stitched back into place.

The woman attacked again. Caim watched her. Rolling aside. The second attack was a horizontal swing. He ducked. A reverse overhead. He rolled into the attack and came up behind her, her weapon buried in the ground.

The broadsword drove through her back and out of her chest. Gripping the sword, he twisted and pulled it out with a howl of hatred. He felt her spine sever and her heart rip as the blade came free with snarl. He kicked the body away and watched it skid across the dirt. He waited until it faded to mist and he breathed deep, taking in the souls she had lost.

The body had vanished but the woman's weapon remained, still dirty with his own blood. A compulsive nature mad him take the brutal tool. It was too big for him to use properly and he didn't care for the barbaric style. Still he took the weapon and made his way down the cliff to see what the woman had been guarding.

A set of armors and a pair of small curved daggers. Weapons of a highway brigand. Neither anything Caim would allow himself to use. The daggers might be useful but that would mean abandoning his shield. Not a trade he was willing to make.

 _She almost got me._ He didn't want to admit it but the woman had managed only a few blows and had staggered him, landed critical blows and nearly taken his life. Estus was no good if he died before he could use it. He needed better armor. More than that, he needed to be stranger, His body, his muscles. He needed to be able to resist more blows and keep his stamina for longer.

He considered returning to the Firelink shrine but settled against it. No. Foreword. There would be no progress if he retreated every time he experienced a setback. He was hunting the lords of cinder in a world that was fighting in its last death throes. The road would never be easy. Though more power would make the obstacles easier to traverse. He couldn't let himself become like Hawkwood.

He explored the stone bridge and only found more corvians he cut down. Down the path was another large stone archway and another stone bridge. A large group of corvians were lying across it and resting on the far side of the chasm. A staff wielder stood on the cliff fo the right overlooking the bridge. He counted at least three corvians on the lower path plus the staff wielder.

 _I can't rush that many._ He didn't envy the idea of fighting them all toe to toe. Even facing one of two of the frenzied corvains was not an appealing prospect. In the course of his planning he glanced over and saw a ridge to the left of the far chasm. He followed the rocks and saw a path leading to a small cave below the bridge.

He judged the distance. Far. It might hurt but he could survive a fall from that height. If the path did lead around then he could get a jump on the corvians faster. Maybe even just hold the higher ground and use his flame and the bow to weaken or kill them. Deciding it was better than rushing headlong into an outnumbered battle he stepped off the bridge and hit the ground. Drinking to heal the twist in his ankle and swallowing his curses, he stood.

The small path led to a cave and from the dark in the cave came two feral dogs. Despite their speed he blocked them with his shield and cut them down quickly. With the dogs dispatched he moved through the cave, pausing to pick up two interesting times.

The first, a silver ring with an odd decoration on it. He tucked it away, unsure if he could trust it. The second was a tome. Heavy and thick it had the kind of markings he expected to find on a holy book. There was no way to know as the tome itself was in braille. Full of bumps instead of letters. He took the book, unsure of why but unwilling to let it rot in the cave. Maybe the firekeeper could read braille? She might enjoy the book.

He walked through the cave and up a sloped path. At the top was a corvian that he charged. Mid swing he saw its eyes. Dark glowing red. Unlike the others it weathered his attacks and sprouted all four wings and began swinging madly. Thankfully it fell to the next series of attacks and a single burst of combustion. The abyss touched corvian fell with fire flickering at its feathers.

Caim spit on the corpse and moved to the edge of the cliff. Sure enough it gave him the perfect vantage on the corvians below and the single leader on the rock across from him. It would still be dangerous to engage them all at ounce. Trying to use arrows wouldn't work since he didn't have enough to kill them all. But they were not that smart and he was high enough he doubted they could reach him, even with wings.

A plan formed and he scanned the still bird creatures. It could work. He readied his bow, checked his arrows and pulled out his flame, stroking the fire until it roared in his palm. The sword gripped tightly in his hand he made his move.

The first fireball got two of the corvians in the blast. The second only got the one as they tumbled away, screeching and sprouting wings. The others keened and tore their way across the dirt, feet and blades raking at the dirt as their wings beat wildly. He hurled more fireballs down below, enveloping the area in fire. Burst after burst.

A corvian leapt from the flames, his claws gaining purchase on the cliff and clawing his way up. _I was wrong!_ He back stepped as the great knife dug into the ground where he had stood. He tucked away his flame and drove forward with his blade. The thrust was enough to knock the corvian loose from the cliff and knock him down into the others. He followed, plunging the sword into its chest and crushing its ribcage with a sickening crack.

He rose swinging his sword clashing through the corvians as they scrambled around him. He rolled, dashed and spun. His sword a flurry of motion, his shield screaming and scraping as their knives swung and scratched the surface. An attack slipped through and carved into his leg. He grit his teeth through the blood and rolled away.

The corvians advanced. Two left. One very wounded. The other bled but he couldn't tell how severely. He tucked away the sword and drew out his backup weapon, gripping the wooden haft tightly he steadied his stance. Elaine hadn't shown him much, he had never been interested. Still the old habits fell into place and he swung the curved blade of the scythe in a wide, vicious arc.

The curved blade sheared through the first corvian's neck like a knife through water. The second nearly impaled itself on the blade in its haste. Reversing his stance and grip he shoved, knocking the creature back. The mad swing with its knife hit only air. The second swing of the scythe met flesh and feather and blood. The corvian collapsed.

The staff wielder staggered to its feet, charred and bleeding. It made to rise the staff but Caim was on it in a dash. The haft of the scythe to its back, then the blade around its neck. A sudden tug and the burnt body fell, headless and still.

He gave the bodies a final pass before taking a long drink and a breath. More frantic than he had intend but it worked. The scythe gave him a chance to stay out of their reach. Despite not being as refined as the sword it was still capable. For a framing tool.

"Glad you could still help me Elaine." He muttered, tucking away the larger weapon. The sword still felt more comfortable. Even the great corvian knife that he recovered from one of the bodies felt better in his hands. He took the weapon and after a quick rest, moved under the arching stone to the descending stairs.

The battles had taken a huge toll on his armor and supplies. As much as he didn't like it, he needed to return to the Shrine again. The armor needed work. His weapons needed a rest. The souls he had collected needed to be put to use. Still, taking a break didn't seem like a good idea.

He moved down the stairs, watching around and stopped suddenly, nearly tumbling down the stone steps. A bonfire flickered below. But two figures stood guard over it.

Two knights in full armor, their faces hidden behind helmets. Neither held weapons but they also made no move to engage him or show any signs of intelligence. He moved slowly, watching them for signs of aggression. When the one sitting on the rock made a move he nearly jumped out of his skin. The knight waved their hand back and forth. A greeting?

He moved cautiously to face them. The one standing near the wall was in full dark iron armor. The other in fine armor reserved to elite knights of Astroria. The armor alone was a mark of respect. Or a skilled theif. The kind gesture and hands that stayed from his sword helped.

"Hello." Caim said slowly as he approached. "Surprised to see friendly faces." He looked at the dark knight and his black faceplate. "mostly."

The other knight nodded. "How do you do? I am Anri of Astoria." It shocked Caim more than he wanted to admit that the knight was a woman. He could hear it in her voice. It shouldn't. Elaine had been a woman and a more capable warrior than he ever was.

"I'm Caim." He looked to the other knight, waiting an introduction. The facemask stared at him but the man made no noise of introduction, or even moved.

"This is Horace." Anri said in his place. "A friend and traveling companion. Are you too in search of the Lord of Cinder?"

Caim sighed. "As aimless as I am. Yes."

Anri turned down the road. "We are well along the road of sacrifices. Below us is the crucifixion woods. Beyond the flooded wood lies Farron keep, home of the undead legion. Further yet is the cathedral of the deep. We seek the cathedral, home of the grim Aldrich."

"I suppose I have my eyes set upon the Farron keep and the abyss watchers." It was the closest thing to a plan he had managed to formulate so far. The Farron keep would be the first location he would encounter. The location of one of his targets.

"We may go our separate ways now but we are both seekers of lords. The next time we cross paths one may find the other in a time of need." She turned to look with her closed visor at Caim.

He hesitated. She seemed genuine and heartfelt. Unlike the others like Hawkwood she even seemed to hold some level of hope. He nodded. "I can't promise anything but if I am able, I will help you." He held out his hand. "Should you require it."

Anri nodded and took his hand in a firm clasp. "Thank you. May the flames guide your way."

He turned to the to her knight. "Any promises from you?"

Horace, the dark armored knight turned and made a single rasping grunt from under his helmet. No actual words were spoken and the noise almost sounded like a feral growl.

"Oh yes, Horace. He is not very talkative. But don't think ill of him. Hes' an upstanding kindhearted knight. A fine partner in this grueling journey. Without his help I would have cursed this onerous duty long ago." He heard the sadness and despair in her voice. She wasn't lying. He reassessed his assumption of her strength. She was hanging on by a thread.

"Take care." He said nodding and moving back to the bonfire. He stoked the flame and let if flare again. He settled down and sat beside the fire. Letting the estus refill he looked to Anri and Horace taking their own rest. It was time for another rest and return to the shrine. He needed to reassess a few things.

Holding his hand to the pommel of the coiled sword he spared a final glance to Anri and Horace. Anri waved a hand in farewell and he returned the act. As simple as it was, an act of kindness went a long way to making him feel stronger. He didn't need another at his side, just his own feet under him.


	11. Chapter 11:Firelink- Souls and Weapons

The Shrine was a quiet place. The halls were filled with only the crackling of the flame, the steady tapping of Andre's hammer and the shuffling of feet. Caim stepped in the ash and breathed deeply, swinging the halberd in powerful, but slow, overhead arc. He followed, swinging low and cutting an inviable enemy in half.

He put away the long arm and drew the katana. He stepped through a few practice swings with it as well. He had several other weapons he was testing, feeling out to understand them. The Firekeeper watched silently from her corner of the room as he trained.

After talking with Andre he had held off putting his resources into his current weapons. The encounter with the corvians and his use of the scythe had made him reconsider only using his short sword. Having a variety of weapons to deal with different enemies would be worthwhile. So, he went through his own inventory and the wares of the shrine maiden, expanded with the addition of the ash he had found, and picked out what he found to be the best choices.

He practiced with each weapon, feeling its weight and how it moved. What he could do with it. Its advantages and its inherent traits. The scythe had a great amount of reach but lacked the weight to impact with great force. The broadsword was shorter and capable of more adaptable motions and stronger. Its lack of reach could create problems.

After sorting through all the weapons, he put them away, panting from the exertion of training with each one. He had taken the time to visit each of the residents except Ludleth who he needed to see most of all. He had even stopped in to see Greirat. The thief had made an interesting proposition.

He wanted to go and pillage the undead settlement for treasure. "Everyone's dead or hollowed away anyway, right? So, I might as well fetch some weapons or treasure for you. Well, what do you say?"

He didn't feel any problems with letting the thief be a thief. Moral qualms about such things had died ages ago. He accepted and allowed the thief to go. Greirat promised to return with treasure and left him to it. In truth, it didn't bother him what the thief chose to do. Or what become of him because of it.

He walked the stone stairs to Ludleth's throne and moved beside the old man. It struck him again how frail this supposed 'lord' was. He didn't seem the type to link the flame The other lords were a powerful cleric, who according to Hawkwood was a cannibal, a giant, the abyss watchers and a prince. Then there was Ludleth.

He was small, shorter than Caim even if he did have legs. Crippled. Frail and weak. Could someone like this have every held the power to link the flame? The fires of life that burned throughout the world were great and terrible The journey to link them a perilous deadly task. Ludleth seemed as if a stiff breeze would break him.

"Hello unkindled one," he said with a kindly nod. "How can this lord be of assistance?"

Caim reached to his pack and retrieved the strange scaled treasure from the pit of hollows. "I believe I have found something of interest." he said holding the kiln up.

Ludleth gasped. "Oh belike it is…" He reached a tiny hand to take the item. "A transposing kiln in thy possession. Seen better days but methinks it shall suffice."

"This is what you were looking for then." Caim said, giving the tiny man the kiln. "So, how does this give me the power I was after?"

"Now, you must bring me a twisted soul."

"A twisted soul?" he asked, crossing his arms. "Explain."

"Transposition is the art of extracting, and coalescing the essence of a soul. In transposing a twisted soul its true power transfereth to thee. Thy purpose is to seek lords and slay them. Whats to fear a little transposition?"

Cai watched the thin old lord. He caressed the kiln like a parent tending to their child. Gentle and loving. Almost obsessive. He took a long breath and pulled at the two souls that were held within him. The souls of the Greatwood, where he had found the kiln, and the soul belonging to the guard dog Vordt of the Borreal Valley.

"Are these adequate for twisted souls?" he asked, presenting them to Ludleth.

"Ah," The old man leaned forward. "Indeed. Yes. Let us be about it." He took the soul of Vordt and carefully placed it within the kiln. The scales of the side rippled and tremored as if suddenly given life. The inside began to churn and spin as Vordt's soul blended with the miasma within. "Let us seeth what we can create."

"Create? I thought I would be given their power?"

The lord raised a single finger. "Transposition is the taking of power into form. The souls changed into an instrument born of the slain's power. Behold." He held up the kiln and Caim stared within. The miasma twisted and churned. He could see the shadow of a great knight. A broken hunched form of metal and fury. Then the beast dissolved and in its place, were two items.

A single black ring engraved with a black piercing eye. The other a large, chilling mace. Sturdy and battle hardened.

"This is the form of Vordt's soul." He said aloud. "A ring he bore. And his Mace."

Ludleth nodded. "Souls are… malleable things. The kiln can craft them into many forms. They be limited by the soul, but all reflect the transposed."

Caim stared into the dark pool. A mace or a ring. The mace may yet prove useful. A heavy strong weapon. He preferred blades but a strong weapon couldn't be cast away. The ring promised more power. He could see it in the dark eye. Still it was also something sinister. The eye that stared back made his skin itch.

Power, however, was the reason he had sought out the kiln. Knowing what needed done he reached into the kiln, focusing on the ring and wrapped his fingers around it pulling the circle of metal from the kiln. Rather than wet of cold as he would have expected, his hand glowed with heat. Warm, almost burning.

"The choice made." Ludleth said with a nod.

"Seems easy." Caim said, examining the tiny dark ring in his grip.

Ludleth laughed, A dry cracking sound like crushing leaves. "The skills of a master craftsman are greatest when unseen." He whispered.

"Proverb from home?"

"Wise words from an wiser man." Ludleth nodded towards the unkindled. "Let us have of the other soul."

Caim grasped the curse rotted great wood soul and passed it to Ludleth. The miasma returned whirling in green and crackling in the non-liquid of the kiln. Smoke and fire twisted to reveal two new forms. A long sword, narrow and sharped. Great and strong. A weapon to turn aside the corrupted hollows of the world. The other was a spear. A cruel sharp cross guard in the center of the long weapon. The length wrapped in twisted petrified flesh.

"Two weapons." Ludleth whispered.

"Indeed." He looked between the two weapons. The sword looked well crafted. Strong but large. The spear caught his eye more. It was gnarled and reflected the twisted nature of the great wood. He remembered he scythe and how useful it could be. A long arm might be the better choice and give him more options. There was no telling what power the spear might hold.

Remembering Elaine, he reached into the kiln and wrapped his fingers around the twisted handle of the spear, pulling it tip first from the kiln.

"An odd choice." Ludleth spoke. "Choosing a spear of such cursed past."

"I'm more interested in the future." He examined the new weapon. The petrified flesh that coiled around the weapon gave it a disturbing presence living feel. It almost seemed to writhe under his hands but gripped it tightly feeling the dark metal beneath it. "This will do well."

Ludleth nodded and seemed to curl deeper into his chair. "Take care Unkindled one. Let me know if you happen upon any other twisted souls."

Caim stepped off the throne and falling to the ring below. He went back to the center of the shrine and began practicing with the spear. It felt odd but after a few minutes he began to have a better understanding of the weapon.

He tried to remember some of the things Elaine had tried to teach him. Using the length of the weapon to your advantage. Make the most of the reach granted by the weapon. Thrust but do not overextend. It was a comforting memory. A smile pulled at his lips as he set the spear aside.

A dry chuckle caught his attention to the crestfallen warrior sitting to the side of the shrine. "You haven't given up yet?" Hawkwood said dryly.

"No." Caim said, turning to face the warrior. "I have a task before me. Unlike you, I will see it through."

He chuckled again. Dry and humorless. "Then you're a brasher lad than I thought. You can make better use of this." With a flick of his hand he tossed a small stone that Caim snatched from the air. It was heavy. The texture crystalline but similar to the titanite shards he had used for his weapons.

"Wasent expecting kindness from you." He said tucking the stone away.

"I don't need it. Now that I've flown the coop." He chuckled.

"What does that mean?" Caim asked stepping towards Hawkwood. The soldier remained still and silent. "If you are feeling gracious, I'm going to the Farron woods soon. Hunting the abyss watchers. Anything you know?"

Hawkwood shifted and turned his head up at the mention of the warriors. "The undead legion of Farron is a caravan of undead. Sworn by the wolf's blood to contain the abyss. The legion will bury a kingdom at the first sign of exposure. Joyous bunch really."

"That why you left them?"

Hawk's head jerked to stare at the unkindled pyromancer standing cross armed before him.

"I've seen the legion march on kingdoms before. I've watched them lay waste to a kingdom to contain the abyss. I know their armor." He gestured to Hawkwood. "Armor just like yours."

Hawkwood made no move to stand from his position on the step. Nor did he make any defense. He stared at Caim before turning away laughing in a low humorless tone. "I am called Hawkwood the deserter for good reason."

"More than one it would seem." Caim whispered.

"hmm." The deserter took a long breath before turning back to Caim. "Gaining admission to the legion is a matter of some ceremony. Inside their keep, snuffing out the flames of three alters opens the door to wolf blood. Even accursed undead want to believe they are special. I pity the poor souls."

"Don't. You have no right to dispense pity." Caim tried to understand the broken warrior before him. There was more to this man. He was more than just a coward and a deserter. Still he couldn't see it. Hawkwood seemed to just be a man who had given up. He saw the vastness of the world around him and curled away from it. Frightened he would be crushed beneath it.

Caim strode away, towards the vastness the world offered him. He gripped the new key he had purchased from the handmaiden. Supposedly it led to a pass that was used to connect to the cathedral of the deep. If so it would hold him a new path.

He stopped with Andre and the handmaiden, ensuring he was outfitted before going to leave. The Fire keeper stood as he approached and he gave her a low bow she returned. She didn't speak unless he did. But she was always attentive. Strangely so, given her blindness. He felt no pity for her however. Pity was for creatures like Hawkwood., Creatures who could not stand their small place in a vast world.

Caim put his hand to the pommel of the coiled sword and drew in a deep breath. He focused on his goal and let the world dissolve away returning to his venture. His quest. His purpose.


	12. Chapter 12: The Crucifixion Wood

The old stone bridge led to a once locked door. More rats had found their way into the foggy tunnel and Caim had to quickly dispatch them with his new spear. Using the tool against the weaker foes made getting used to it easier.

Down the wet tunnel, he found the mentioned gate. Sealed closed. The key from the handmaiden opened the gate and he let himself in out of the water and onto dry land. The small tunnel split to the left and right. To the right burned dozens of small candles around a shrine. The statue depicted a slender figure in large robes with a long mask. One hand was stretched to the side, the other clutched a tablet to her chest.

Caim stepped closer. "Velka," he murmured remembering the goddess. "Goddess of sinners and forgiveness." He sighed. The goddess had been well known back home. One that Gin and Elaine and most of the village had followed. Caim had never cared for her. Looking to others, even gods, for forgiveness to your own sins seemed like a cheap way out.

He and the gods had never quite seen eye to eye. Likely since he spent most of his time looking elsewhere. Caim left the shrine and made his way down the tunnel. He collected a halberd with a red haft, tucking the weapon away to examine later. Scattered light illuminated the corners of the hall and the open area beyond. The tunnel became a wide catacomb chamber with scattered stone alcoves. The floor shifted as Caim's feet disturbed countless scattered bones.

He nudged a long white femur aside into a pile of ribs. The rattling bones disturbed the silence. Then it broke again. More clicking clattering bones scraping across the floor. The ground churned as the scattered bones regrouped and collided. Bones rolling and clicking into place. A leg. An arm. Then the body became whole. A full skeleton standing. With a casual flick it rolled a skull into its hand and placed it onto its neck with a final crack.

The mocking smiling visage turned towards him, a large curved sword in one hand. It made no sound beside its scraping bones and stepped forward.

"Fucking skeletons." He growled, drawing the broadsword. "Never know when to stay down." He rushed as the Skelton stepped in swinging its wide sword in a huge arc. The blow rebounded from his shield and left the bones open to a punishing blow of the sword. Ribs shattered under the impact. He swung up and broke an arm, then down and cracked the creature's hip.

Skeletons were tricky. The power that held them together was fickle. Twisted magic that forced the bones to continue to work but did nothing to repair their brittle nature from years of decay. Still, they had no heart to pierce or brain to sever. No blood to empty or organs to cripple. The only way to stop them was to destroy the host until the magic dissipated. Sometimes a few broken bones would do. Sometimes you had to leave nothing but dust.

This one fell after another overhead blow split the skull and shattered its other arm. The body gave a single tremor and the bones fell apart. The puppets strings cut in a final deafening clatter of bones on stone. Caim waited. They may not be that clever but he had seen skeletons use this trick before. For good measure, he crushed the skull into powder.

"Stay dead." He hissed. "like everything else."

The path did not get any easier. The ground continued to churn as more of the skeletons began to form. He rushed the first before they could fully form and broke them apart. He spun from one another and broke them down. The skeletons fell aside as he cut his way down the smoothing tunnel. When the sky greeted him again his feet sank into the water.

Caim sighed. "I really wish I could find some place that isn't flood and infested." He groaned. Stepping out of the marsh he looked up. The ravine had a sliver of the sky visible above him. Overcast and dully illuminated. The rock face was too high and sheer to even consider climbing. He followed the path collecting some discarded items and found another carved tunnel in the rock. Inside he stopped at the head of a short ladder.

The chamber below opened like a sewer basin. Wide and flat, the ground soaked through and infested with several large rats. He didn't like how many there were. Rats were just vermin but anything in large numbers was dangerous. He surveyed the battlefield one more time before stepping down to the soft ground.

The beady eyed creatures turned and scurried his way immediately. He hurled a fireball to engulf two of them and unleashed a fire stream to stave off the others. It killed four of them but more pulled their way free from the sewer grates. He waded in as they pushed through the fire cleaving one head off and splitting another side open. Brown brackish blood sprayed across the floor as he rolled into the horde and cut down another and another.

The room was still except for Caim's breathing. He took a drink of estus to heal the scrapes on his legs where the rats had gotten bites of him. He waited to ensure no more were coming from the grates in the wall before walking to the tall ladder beyond them and hauling himself up.

The small tunnel broke into a T junction. The right was a barred metal gate that led back to the sunlight. He turned to the left and paused, hand on his sword. The candles burned freely around the small square room. Seated in the corner was a woman dressed in white plain robes.

He stepped into the small room and the woman shifted turning her eyes up towards him. Caim froze. Not dead then.

"Ahh, is someone there? Is someone there? Anyone?" She asked, her voice shaking. Her head turning to scan the room.

 _She's blind._ He realized as she continued to turn her head around the room and wrap her arms around herself.

"The dark surrounds me. Nibbles at my flesh. Little creature's, they never stop biting. So please, hold out your hand and touch me." The girl sounded on the verge of tears. Distraught and terrified. How long had she been locked away in the dark like this? He wondered.

Slowly, letting his feet scrap he stone and make noise, Caim approached and knelt beside the woman, gently placing one hand on her shoulder. "I am here." He said softly.

"Ah yes, there you are so close indeed. Then I am not entirely alone just yet. Praise the merciful gods above." She whimpered. The woman clasped her hands in a solid prayer. Caim retracted his hand slowly.

"My name is Caim." He said quetly. "Who are you? How did you find yourself here?"

"Oh, forgive me." She said with a start. "I am Irina of Carim. I came to this land that I might be a firekeeper. Your touch has freed me from the darkness. You are a champion then? I am weak and unfit to tend the flames." She paused. "But if it would not trouble you might I enter your service instead?"

Caim cocked his head to the side. What did this girl think she could be of service? She was small, frail and blind. An attempted firekeeper but had not been able to do it. There wasn't anything this girl could give him. She was no use. He had to bite back his immediate urge to decline. As he opened his mouth to answer he stopped.

Leaving her here, alone and in the dark, did not sit well with him either.

He gave a long slow breath. "I can, if nothing else, give you a better place to stay. If you can provide any assistance than I will welcome it. Or you can at least get out of this dark hole."

Her face curled under her veil into a genuine smile. "Oh, thank you sweet champion. I shall take my vows."

"No need…."

She was speaking before he could interject. "I, Irina of Carim, solemnly swear to serve you." She clasped her hands and bowed her head.

The pyromancer sighed. "Very well. Here, take this bone. It will take you to the Firelink shrine. A safe place. No dark creatures should harm you there." His mind drifted to Yoel for an instant and Hawkwood. But he banished these thoughts and pressed the bone into her hands.

"Thank you, Champion. You have given this wretch a chance to be of use again." With that she crushed the bone in her hands and vanished in a swirl of smoke. Caim sighed. Another stray taken in out of pity. If he didn't start to reign in this damn pity he would be up to his eyeballs in helpless women and thieves in no time.

Still, he couldn't have left her here. The world itself might be breaking and dying but that didn't mean he had to leave those that still held their minds to die with it. Hollows might be beyond help but anyone with their minds was worth at least offering a home. Until they proved otherwise.

He walked back to the bars and unlatched them. Strange to have the lock on the inside. Then again, a blind woman was surly unable to find and undo her own lock. He stepped down the small tunnel and came back to the sunlight. A familiar tower to the left and another, less favorable sight, to his right.

The hammer wielding man chuckled darkly. "You like poking around in cells do you? How very genteel." He laughed.

"I suppose you were her jailor then? You lock a blind girl in a dark cell and leave her there while you watch the door?"

"Ah-ha, taken an interest in her, have you?" he shook his head. "Well she is a lost cause. Couldn't even become a fire keeper. After I brought her all this way and got her all ready. She's beyond repair I tell you."

"You're a bastard." Caim spat. "Your broken girl is gone now. I've sent her back to the Shrine. Your charge is done. Go rot in the abyss."

"You've gone and rescued her, have you?" He said with a genuine interest behind the dragon head helm.

"You have issue with it?" Caim said, gripping his sword tightly.

"hmph, how very quaint, pitying creatures that are beyond help."

 _Seems to a habit I'm quickly forming._ He thought to himself.

"Very well, I am sick of looking at her at any rate. I am Egyon, a knight of Carim. I am allied to you as long as you assure the girls safety." He paused. "and only for that long."

The subtle threat did not go unnoticed. Caim clenched his fingers around the hilt of his blade but rather than retort he turned and stormed away. Let the knight sit and sully. He had better things to do than argue with a coward.

. . .

It took time but Caim soon sat down at the bonfire amid the ruined fortress once again. Anri and Horace were gone on their own quest. Caim took a small respite at the bonfire before heading on his way. He had his own quest to see to and too much to do in order to see it through.

He made a last check of his equipment before standing and making his way past the broken walls and the long path. Below, great trees rose to form a smothering canopy over a broken landscape. Swamp and earth mixed below along with countless smaller wooden frames. Handmade crucifixes piled like a thousand wooden tombstones.

The path weaved back and forth in a series of switchbacks down below the trees to the waterline. More trees stood in the shallow water, looming over the swamp below and the smaller figures in it. Several people were walking along the water's edge, moving with slow lethargy, in no small part because they each bore a great lance of wood taller than themselves.

Moving down the path two of these men turned his way. Tattered things in fragmented clothes holding their great wooden lances, little more that wilted tree trunks, they gave a low haunting groan and lowered their weapons before charging.

Caim ran to meet them. The heavy wood would easily overcome his guard. He rolled aside, coming up and driving his blade into the shambling man's back. Another set of blows and he fell in a pool of black blood. Another of the hunters charged. He too fell in a simple sidestep and combination of slashes.

These men were hardly threats so long as he could see them coming. They were hardy and required several strikes to fell but their motions were easy to read and slow. Fools to try and wield those poles like weapons.

The ground leveled off and Caim paused. The swamp smelled like home. Mold and musk thick with damp plant life and the distant hint of burning leaves. He almost expected to hear the distant crackle of fires and the stomping of the garrison. The trees should have held bridges criss crossing the peaks, small huts nestled above. People going about simple boring lives.

Those lives were gone. All he saw when he looked to the trees were ghosts. Long dead ghosts.

This swamp was patrolled by several of the wood bearers and in the distant a crab twice the size of a horse skittered through the water with a staccato beat of clicks and splashes. Wooden totems surrounded the trees. Light cut through the canopy reflecting on the clear water.

He stopped at the edge and brushed his foot through the water. It was warm and familiar. He stepped into the shallow water and walked out into the swamp. The water didn't come higher than his shin and let him let him walk about the swamp easily.

As he moved deeper into the clear swamp water many small crabs began to take notice and slowly edge towards him. Caim watched the little crustaceans warily. They were large, for crabs, coming just above his ankles and clicking their little claws.

As one neared him he stepped back. "Are you just curious?" he asked, standing still as the creature skittered closer on its many legs. Then with a sudden lurch it closed the distance with a splash and struck with one of its claws, snapping at Caim's ankle.

"Ah! You little bastard!" he snapped scrambling away. The snap had managed to cut through the tattered leather and he could feel blood spilling into the water. He quickly drew his sword and drove it down through the crab's chitin and into the water.

The little critter flailed helplessly on the sword before falling still. Caim put his boot on the crab and pulled his sword free. More of the little creatures were moving around the swamp, several towards him. No doubt they were going to be just as violent as the first one. No more giving them chances.

If ever there was a chance to test the new weapon it was now. He sheathed the sword and drew out the spear. It wasn't really necessary. The broadsword gave him enough reach to dispatch the crabs without getting in any danger. The spear was just for practice.

He stepped towards the first and two thrusts was enough to end the carbs movements. He moved through the swamp, jabbing the sharp weapon into any small crab foolish enough to approach him. All the while, he moved through the swamp, picking at the trees, scouting the area.

There were several points of interest in the swamp. He moved through the water, feeling the hot warmth of the sun on his back as he passed through beams of light that cut through the canopy. The trees cut the distance off into a misty haze so he strode forward. He could see the frame of a stone structure looming just beyond the wood and he pressed on.

The crabs proved little more than a nuisance when he didn't allow himself to be stopped. It was as he began to make out the shape of the wall that the peaceful quiet ceased. It was subtle at first. Distant. A rapid series of splashes that became more fervent and distracting until he spun to his left.

To behold a giant crab charging him like a bull.

The monster towered over him. Several feet above his own head and nearly fifteen feet wide it was if one of the smaller carbs had been inflated by a giant. One of it's the claws, the one it raised to strike as it neared, was bigger than Caim himself.

Instinct yelled and he dodged as the claw struck the ground sending a plume of water into the air. Clearly the beast was angry. He stood and drew up his spear. "Alright then, bigger crab." He huffed, shaking the water from his face. The spear pierced the crab's side the chitin giving far easier than he had expected. Rather than hard armor, the rough skin gave like wet leather.

The crab while large was also cumbersome and easy to evade. A few sharp jabs of the spear spilled blood and ichor into the water. The spear did good work piercing the chitin and ripping a good hole in the flesh. He staggered back as the crab slammed its great claw into the water sending up another spray of water and Lilly pads.

Ducking the claw, he drove the spear in again. Then he repeated. For all its strength, the crab fell easily after a minute of spear thrusts, the final blow piercing one of its beady eyes and twisting in its skull before Caim yanked it free spilling blood and filth into the clear water.

He pulled the spear free and sighed. "That's was interesting." He said, cleaning his weapon in the clear water before continuing on. The stone arched to the left but Caim's eyes were drawn to the right. In the water was a body, familiar brown robes shrouding a hunched form.

The water got deeper as he stepped in coming up to his waist. He had to wade through the water slowly but came to the body. Old brown robes were over the shriveled corpse. Clutched in its hands was something else. A thick tomb that was wrapped in robes and propped above the water. He picked it up and found a familiar flame emblem on the cover.

"A pyromancy tome." He whispered. Thumbing through the pages he found he couldn't read it very well. The words of some language he couldn't decipher but the emblem was unmistakable. "Maybe Cornyx can make sense of it." He tucked the tome away and wrapped it from the elements. It would hold until he made it back to the shrine.

He left the water onto dry land moving towards the looming stone structure. The Farron walls rose on either side. The ground was dry here and bathed in heavy sunlight. It changed the setting from swamp to hard stone keep quickly. Caim stopped before he neared the stairs.

Standing guard on the top of the stone stairs was a man in great heavy black iron amour. His face hidden behind a mask, one hand holding a great wooden club over one shoulder while his other was strapped with a small shield. The lone guard was alive swaying in the air. His attention drawn elsewhere as he hadn't noticed Caim yet.

The Unkindled ducked aside and watched. The sentry showed no signs of moving. No chance he could slip by. "Just another obstacle." He murmured as he sized up his quarry. The heavy armor would do good to protect him from the sword and spear. Pyromancy might be a good way to go. More so to stay out of reach of that enormous club.

He prepared before he stepped out drawing an arrow and losing it. The shaft dug into the guards shoulder but seemed to gain no purchase on flesh as the man turned sharply and ran towards his attacker.

Caim put away the bow and strode to meet the iron clad foe. Sword and shield at the ready. The man rushed with a furious grunt and swung the club overhead to smash him but Caim was already moving. The blow caved in the earth sending a spray of leaves in the air as Caim rolled to his feet and charged. The sword dug into the armor but again he didn't feel the catch of flesh. That armor was thick and widened to give him more room from the impact of incoming blows. The club came around in a wide arc that sent Caim stumbling back. The following swing impacted his shield and threw him across the dirt into the water.

Caim got hit feet under him and rose again. The large armored man slowly strode towards him gripping the club with both hands. He stepped in, the club whipping past his head as he laid another strike along the knight's legs. The next blow came up and sheared into the armor. Metal shards flew into the air in a shower. The sword bit into flesh, spilling blood from the metal.

The big beast growled and swung its great weapon down. The wood met his shield with a crack, shaking his arm. It hurt but he pushed through it and drove his sword through the cracked armor. The warrior stumbled back, rolling over the root covered ground. As he came up, his left hand held a small totem. Yellow light gathering in his hand.

Caim rushed. He had seen divine miracles before and knew this. He closed the gap and swung his sword biting into the shoulder and he twisted it into the warrior's neck. The words died in his mask. The miracle died in his hands as the man's blood spilled from his neck and stained the armor.

Caim stepped back. Pulling his sword away in a spray of blood and sending the black armored man to the dirt. The clatter of his armor echoed. Then it continued. A moment later he realized the man was still but he could still hear grating metal.

Behind.

Caim spun just as a second man in similar armor with a great curved blade in his hands swung in with a vicious hum.

He rolled away but the edge caught his back, shearing armor and flesh. It was heavy and powerful. That thing would carve him apart if he let it. He got to his feet as the man charged again swinging the blade in a wide arc.

The sword swung fast and fierce in a savage combo. Caim stepped back and deflected the sword. The hit was harder than the club. The impact jarring. He dodged the next swing and stepped in, laying into him. The armor scratched but didn't give.

He jumped away as the knight spun into a fluid combo with his blade, the weight leading in a wide spiral arc that sent him forward, sword humming. Caim leapt away. That combo would shred him. But it had cost the knight his footing.

Caim got out of range and hurled a fireball. The fire dashed over the armor and staggered the knight. He hurled another fireball and let it splash across the knight before rushing into the flames. The curved sword knight staggered under the sword strike. The second cut through the heated armor easily. The swordsman stood his ground taking the attack and swinging in an arc.

Caim ducked and gripped, stepping into his stance and swinging upward. The sword cleaving from groin to shoulder. The mask fell away into pieces, the sword falling from his grip before he fell to the ground. Moments later he vanished in a haze of lost souls.

Caim took a long breath and drank in the power before sipping at the estus flask and healing his bloody back. Looking around it became clear that both warriors had left their weapons behind. The heavy club and curved great sword. Both too big and heavy to consider using now. He put them away and went to the shore to wash up and clean his sweaty face

He wiped the water away and stopped. Another old body lie on the shore. He had missed it before. Now he saw it was dressed in tattered dark armor. Metal plates under dark ripped cloth. It was fine armor. Still in remarkable shape despite the sorry condition of the wearer.

"You had good taste pal." He said out loud taking the armor from the corpse and putting it away. When he could stop again he would see about using the armor. For now, he shouldered his new loot and moved towards the stairs the pair of exile guards had been guarding. It was the way forward. Into the stone ruins.

The shattered keep was scarcely lit by dying candles. Flickering fires that illuminated a large hole to the right with a ladder leading down. A quick glance said it led a great way down. Caim ignored it and moved beyond to the opening in the far wall. The air opened to a view.

The sky opened up to a view of Lothric far above. Below the waist high railing the forest spread out bellow. A scattered canopy of large trees and thick swampy water spread out below. The forest and swamp was caged in by the great white stone walls that circle the base of Lothric rise and the surrounding area. Rising to the right was the great bridge that led to Lothric. Or what was left at least.

Caim's eyes were drawn to three towering pillars that struck up from the trees of the swamp. Each burning with a great fire at their peak. "The fires Hawkwood mentioned?" he questioned. "Could be. This place would have been a part of the Farron's keep once upon a time." Looking around it was sad to see the state the keep had fallen.

The forest below was nothing like what lay behind him. The air was foul and wreak of an acidic stench. Rot was prevalent and permeated the air. Darkness had claimed this land ages ago. He tried to commit the locations of the towers in his mind but with little other landmarks to go by he resolved that he would be wandering the swamp when he got down there.

He took a step back and breathed deeply. The air up here was fresh at least. And the sky clear. Two things he was likely not going to see for some time after this. He moved down the stairs to the right, down the broken stairs but found the path blocked. An iron gate was broken in the doorway, heavy rubble wedging it in place.

He gave it a cautionary push and pull but the iron bars had no give. Worse, he could see something just beyond them. Something glowing and smoldering in the arms of a corpse in a chair. "Damn." He knew the way forward must be below, down the ladder in the last room. He returned, making his way down the very long ladder to the forest swamp below.

The smell hit first. The acrid burning scent became terrible. the burning sick scent from above became a physical veil he felt he was pushing through. Each breath burning his nose and lungs as he inhaled the stench. The small rom did have the respite of a small bonfire but before resting he walked to the door and surveyed his next task.

He was not hopeful.

The swamp was nothing like above. The water was a thick sludge that wreaked of death. The air itself smelled poisonous. Miasma of the swamp was thick and darkened the light of the sun here. The trees covered in gnarled parasitic roots and bulbs that sapped the life from them. Fires flickered in the distance. The sludge shifted at his feet. This place was sick. Dying. Nothing but fire could save this world. A cleaning fire to start again from ashes.

Before he could consider the foolishness, he was about to commit he went back to the bonfire, aiming to see about his damaged armor and his weapons. He may yet need tools to traverse this place but only time would tell. Homeward bones would be fine to have if he needed to return and try again from the beginning. He could feel the vastness of this swamp and knew it was a great leg to accomplish.

For a moment, he left himself sit at the bonfire and rest. Refilling his estus and laying out his equipment. Planning ahead was key. Fools and dead men rushed in. Caim was…. He chuckled as his own mind stopped him. "Well, no need to be a dead man twice." He muttered.


	13. Chapter 13: The Farron Swamp

The recovered armor fit well. Solid woven leather and metal plates, and he had to admit that despite the tattered shape, the dark coat fit well too. It offered little extra protection but the feeling of it was comforting. The trousers he kept from the Mirrach armor he had collected as they were more comfortable. He moved in the armor and while it was heavier he enjoyed the feeling it did not impair his speed so it could stay.

Weapons sharpened and ready, estus refilled and items arranged on his belt he set out of the tiny stone room that had once been part of the Farron keep and stepped into the foul air of the rotting swamp.

It was a sea of filth that stretched out before his eyes. It was almost overwhelming but he knew better. Gin had always taught him to never let his mind take him where he did not choose. If a problem seemed too great or daunting. Stop. Look. Think. Do not let your eyes be cowered by what they do not understand.

He did just that. Stopping and looking he found that there was a path through the swamp. He knew from his first step that the fluid that churned on the ground was not safe. Either acidic or poisonous he did not like the idea of spending a lot of time with it. He would have to in time but for now, he would avoid it.

Moving towards the next raised island to his left he found his first resistance. The large leeches were the size of a man and lethargically rose up as he neared. Caim didn't wait. He knew of creatures like this and would see them dead before they began spewing poison.

The sword made quick work and he moved on. He rushed through the poison to solid ground. The ground was covered in wooden totems. Crucifixes with rotted remains hanging from them in grisly displays. Large fires burned on each like trail markers. He followed to the next island. Several more leeches ran slithered about. He cut them down and stepped back on the earth coughing to clear his lungs.

The more time he spent over the putrid slime of the swamp the more his nose and eyes burned from it. It filled his mouth and made him feel light headed. After catching his breath, he charged the last of the leeches killing them and pausing just long enough to grab the lone estus shard driving into the rock there.

This area was filled with the remains of the Farron keep. Shattered and toppled stone that lay to rot in the filth. The ground seemed too corrupt to hold anything but death now. Too sunken with blood and ichor to support life of any kind. Save the most corrupted.

The path split. To the right the ground raise to a rough plateau. A tree stood high upon but more importantly so did one of the towering flames he had seen from above. The other path, another island that lead into thicker trees of the swamp he left alone for now. Maybe another time. For now, he hiked the stairs. As he reached the top he met the first of the twisted denizens.

They were hideous deformed things. Bodies long and lithe with reversed dog like legs. Fur covered patches of their pale purple bodies. Their heads were swollen with rough bumps like a great swollen wart. Long claw like fingers gripped crude boney weapons as they stumbled around on their long limbs, breathing heavily through their elongated mouths.

Whatever they were Caim knew they were not friendly. The first holding a long knife ran first, driving his weapon to pierce the wanderer with no alert or cry. Caim blocked and stepped into the blow, striking back. They exchanged blows and Caim swung low. The sword shearing through a leg. The second blow caught it in the chest cutting the flesh and the follow through pierced deep wrenching organs and blood free from the body.

The beast gave a final death keel before falling limp to the ground. The sound drew the other. This one dressed in rags and carrying a cruel spear as well as a crude shield. It swung wildly, its weapon flailing in a wide series of arcs before tis lamed down. All were well out of reach of striking Caim. He stepped back watching it as it moved. New enemies needed to be understood.

The creature was careful hiding behind its shield but when it attacked it did so wildly, over extended thrusts, flailing swings. Unpracticed and unrefined battle skill. It did not take much tie to slip around its attacks and cut the creature down with a well-placed set up and a final thrust through tis spine. It collapsed alongside its friend.

"Not too bad. He muttered, spitting to the side. Their weapons leaked the same toxin as the swamp. No surprise really. Any race that could live in this filth would no doubt make use of it, whether it was intentional or not. "In greater numbers, they may prove dangerous." He left the dead and moved o the great stone structure they had been blocking.

The tower rose high above its flame, burning like a bright beacon. The stone itself was old and broken. Little more than the corner of what may have once been a majestic building. Nestled in the corner was what could only be the goal. A small shrine was built around a bowl of gently burning embers. The stone on the wall above the fire was etched with many markings. Depictions of long spindly roots that twisted like claws.

Caim stepped up looking up to the flame above. "Extinguish three flames. And open the way." He slowly placed his hand over the embers, snuffing the tiny fire. "Stupid fools and their damn rituals."

Above, the flame at the tip of the tower winked out. Its life now taken. Black smoke rose for a moment before it too dissipated. "One fire down. Two to go." He said, shaking the ashes from his hand and walking through the archways remains.

The little hilltop and its scattered dying trees held nothing but another of the rot faced creatures with a twisted knife. Once it was dead Caim made his way down the set of jagged stone stairs back towards the sludge swamp. The swamp once again opened up. Trees rising from the sickness. A small island with a burning pile to the left. In the distance, he saw many treasures in the distance of the swamp.

As tempting as that was he could find no safe passage through the sick water. Braving the poison for that long would be dangerous. He instead moved to the side hopping to the small island. The small island was already occupied by another of the rot headed creatures. This one was different however. It carried no weapon. Wore no clothing. It stood, its head turned back to the sky, arms hanging to its side.

As Caim stepped on the island it turned. It didn't attack. Its legs moved slowly, taking small but firm steps towards him. There was no aggression in its posture just a mild freighting calmness. Then it moved.

It uncoiled like a snake lunging and slamming into his shield. He pushed back and repel the blow swinging low and cutting deep into its belly. It screeched but came back opening its hands in a grab screeching and howling all the while. This one was feral. Mad. Frothing and hissing. With a screech it leapt into the air, before diving down, claws out.

Caim rolled and let it hit the earth tearing into the dirt. _That was almost my head_ he thought. _No time to waste on this one._ He lunged driving the sword in and up with a great lunge. It recoiled and swung into a back hand. It was hasty and desperate. Easy for Caim to swing under and take the creatures leg before stepping back Trading his sword for the spear. As the creature bore down all fours for a mad charge he leveled the weapon and thrust.

With a solid squish the beast impaled itself, Caim shoving the spear to the gross guard into its head. It gave a final strangled choke before falling limp. With some effort Caim extracted his weapon. It was filthy with brackish blood and filth. Poison. The creature's blood even flowed with this poison.

"Maybe that's why you were mad." He mused as he whipped his weapon to clean it as best he could. He tucked it away and drew out the sword again. Regardless of the cause the beast was dead and he moved on, hopping to the next bit of solid land that led to another hill, another set of stairs and he could only guess, another of the flames.

Climbing the stairs, he encountered another of the rotten knife wielders. It cried and lunged but using his shield to push back and cutting low and fast it fell quickly its body rolling down the stairs. Caim waited and moved ahead cautiously but thankful he was alone again.

Just like before the building before, the structure had fallen save for the corner that held a burning flame and the tower that held its double. Different from the last the shrine this one held a depiction of a great tower of skulls. Hundreds of skeletons that seem to have pushed and fused into one forming a vague humanoid shape. Perhaps the two were creatures of the abyss? Slain by the Farron watchers?

In the end it mattered for nothing. Old stories were, like everything else, dying out. To Caim the meaning of the symbols did not matter. Only their purpose. He placed his hand over the fire snuffing it out. Looking up he watched the second fire die into smoke.

Two down, one to go.

Passing through the remains of the archway he moved beyond the broken tower and stopped. The path narrowed into a bridge, maybe three men wide. On the other side stood a threat. A barrier to his proceeding. Three of the rotten creatures blocked the bridge. Two were sitting their spears held up at their sides. They each appeared to be sleeping from their slow rhythmic breathing. The third stood behind them, arms to the side, tattered robes hanging off its lithe form.

He had yet to fight them in numbers and coupled with the tiny bridge he did not like his chances. A straight sword fight against two spear wielders and the third was not ideal. He could pick them off maybe? No, if he fired on one all three would no doubt attack.

Still, there was merit to that plan. He could make it work. He made a quick check of his flame, his estus and all his other supplies. No need charging into battle without thinking. All the same he could not afford to waste time standing here gawking and crying about how he wasn't ready. The world turned for all. Even the idle fools.

He took a long breath, ignoring the burning stench of the swamp and drew back his arrow taking aim at the closest creature and loosing. It struck with a solid squish of impacted flesh. The spear wielding monster was on its feet in an instant. It charged the bridge and so did its complain. The third one remined behind.

Caim back pedaled the short distance of the bridge and stopped at its lip. He waited until they neared before hurling the first fireball. Both creatures blocked but he could see the fire wash through their crude shields and scathe flesh. He hurled another and another until his reserves were spent. Both creatures stood but one had taken a blast to its face and both looked to be in dire straits.

Caim took a long drink of the ashen estus to recover his spent power. Unlike the heat of the estus flask the ashen estus was a sharp stinging bolt that shot though him. He felt the surge in his core as the fire returned. power to be used again.

The first one charged thrusting rapidly with its spear. Caim weathered the assault through his shield and as it reeled for its last thrust he rolled under and made his own thrust, driving the sword into its chest. The beast fell with a single keening call. Then the other was upon him.

The roll and thrust had left him vulnerable. He was off balance when the other came at him. His shield only turned away the first blow. His stance shook and the spear slashed across his face, cutting and spewing blood through the air. It came back again and again, each time lashing his face and chest, cutting and beating him like a ragdoll.

With a final backhanded swing, the shaft of the filthy spear knocked his head sideways, lashing across his face and splitting his already bloody cheek open. Caim stumbled back, spitting blood as he tried to suck breath back into his lungs. Tried to regain his posture. The creature rushed, thrusting again. He moved away, letting it stab the air before he closed and hacked at its leg.

The muscle gave way to the sword in a sick easy parting of flesh. The leg gave way and its sick black blood mixed with Caim's on the ground. It turned making a final desperate swing with its shield. The blow rocked Caim's teeth but he swung his word and cut through the creature's neck turning. The life left its body and it slumped to the ground, lifeless.

The last of the creatures still stood across the bridge. Caim sucked down a drink of estus to heal his shredded face. The armor would need work when he had time, for now he faced the last enemy. It was only now he noticed the differences. And they explained why it had not moved. The growths that made up its bulbous head was different. Almost horn like. Beyond that its clothes were complete, almost like real robes. In one hand, it held a knife like the others. In the other it held some kind of talisman. A gourd or something of the like.

A shaman, or a leader of some kind. It was still dangerous but it was no warrior. As he approached the beast drank of its gourd before spewing a cloud of poisons just as the corvian leaders had done. "Weak tricks like that are not going to save you." He muttered as he waited for the cloud to vanish. As it drew back again Caim ran. The poison stung his newly healed injures and scorched his eyes and nose but he moved through it and was on the beast.

It didn't even fight back. A single thrust of its knife that broke on his shield and he struck the creature down. One, two, three slashes and it fell headless. Caim moved calmly to the side of the bridge and retched, adding his own filth to the swamp.

"Idiot." He cursed himself. "Too much poison. You let it build up too much." He gripped his chest as he felt the venom in his veins working its way through. The retching was only part of its effects. He had no way to counter it. He would simply have to let it work its way out of his body.

He looked up to the broken remains of the tower that the three had been guarding. Inside was a faint and familiar flicker.

"Maybe some god doesn't hate me." He shuffled over the broken flagstones to the interior of the building and settled down beside the bonfire. Relief washed over him. Strength flooded his veins. It would take time but he could overcome the poison here. Caim sat and enjoyed the warmth as he felt it burn the venom from his veins.

The broken tower was a fine place to rest. It was shaded and comfortable. Wrapped in strong stone that had weathered the ages. Here he sat and debated his place in the swamp. One more fire would open the way to the Farron watchers. Then what? He knew little of the Abyss Watchers. They partook of wolf blood. Hunting the abyss in the image of the ancient abyss walker. Beyond that he knew little.

Would there be many of them or a single champion? How powerful were these Lords of Cinder that had linked the flame? If the legends were true, very, very powerful. Far beyond what a few meager pyromancies and fine sword could defeat.

But he was more than just his tools. Caim was an unkindled. A seeker. A man who had seen the darks of the Abyss and was still burning through it. He sighed and exhaled his doubts. One step at a time. First the final fire. Then the gates to the Farron's keep. Then he would worry about defeating the watchers.

He bided his time. As the poison passed caring for the weapons and armor. Cleaning and buffering them. The swamp had not been kind and both his new armor and sword were in filthy shape. The armor, with its old plates and tattered coat he could do little for except to smooth it out. The sword was cleaned, sharpened, keened and brushed.

Care for tools was basic and a simple act Caim enjoyed. The act of caring for a weapon or armor gave it greater meaning and made the connection between user and tool great. You could trust a tool you cared for with your own hands. More than any other. It was part of you. Just as his pyromancy flame was a part of him.

Time passed. Hours of some length. The sun never seemed to move anymore so time had little meaning to Caim. When he felt rest enough that the poison had passed he stood from the bonfire, taking his readied weapons and filled estus flask and left.

Out the far side of his tiny haven and moving down the long stone ramp he found himself nearing the swamp again. But before him, blocking the filth of the swamp was a great stone gate. To the side of the gate, two large braziers burned with a great flame.

A third on the right was unlit.

"Here would be my gate then." He stopped where the broken ramp me the dirty swamp. The stone of the mountains met with the Farron's gate and wall making an impassable barrier. The only way would be through those gates.

His eyes turned to the swamp around him. Another broken tower to the right. Filth and trees to the left. In the distance shapes moved and drifted among the swamps trees. Big lumbering things and smaller beasts skittering in the shadows. The islands would only take him so far and he did not know where the last fire was.

His eyes settled on the largest stone structure besides the gate. A great solid tower of chiseled rock that loomed high reaching above the trees. One of the supports to the great Lothric bridge. That might be worthwhile. If there was a way up, which their had ought to be, he could use that to get his bearings. There was never anything to be lost taking the high ground

With his goal set Caim stepped off the solid stone and into the unsteady swamp land. His sword and shield pushed back the filth of the swamp. His mind set on the Farron legion and their inevitable demise.

 **Author's note: Sorry for the long time between updates. Lot going on. Been real busy. I have had trouble finding time to edit what I have written so updates will still take some time. But I am still writing. Far less than I would like but I'll get through it. Anyways, hope you enjoy as we move one step closer to the Abyss Watchers, one of my favorite boss fights.**


	14. Chapter 14: The Farron Keep

The tower, the small broken one, was a filthy disturbing mess. Hoping to find something of value Caim had stepped in. The entire thing was infested with giant leeches. It had taken more time and it cost him a sip of his estus to clear them out. Although the loot of a bone shard, still clenched in a corpse's hand, was well worth it.

Beyond it, the safe ground seemed to diminish to nothing. A few small plots still pushed above the swamp's dirty line but they were sparse. The trees opened slightly and he could see more of the swamp. The sunlight did little alleviate its rotten state.

The tower, the great foot of the bridge, was faring much better. To the side, surrounded by more rotting leeches, was a great towering ladder. Simple wooden construction that had withstood the swamps festering poison. It reached only a short distance up but was a start. Taking care to clear the leeches without damaging the ladder, Caim let the monster's bodies fade into dust before stepping onto the rungs and pulling himself free of the swamp.

The armor's weight made itself known during the climb. It was one thing to be walking in the solid metal plates and another to haul oneself up a long ladder with that weight pulling at your chest and shoulders. Caim grunted and swore as he finally neared the end of his climb and pulled his feet back onto solid stone.

It was a fine feeling to no longer be on the stinking and yielding ground of the swamp. The hard-unflinching stone was a strange familiar comfort. Looking back, he felt the deep rush of relief. The air was cleaner here, not tainted by the stench of the swamp below. He stood above the tree canopy and looked down upon the jagged and deformed Farron lands.

The barrier walls of the keep were to the left with its strong battlements. A great cathedral risen to the right. The Cathedral of the deep perhaps. Also to the right was the burning beacon that was the last fire. The burning tower showing Caim his goal, tantalizingly close.

It seemed, at least at first glance, a straight shot from the tower he now stood. But he knew the swamp would not afford him such luxury. A straight shot would keep him from getting lost but would likely put him through rough terrain and more danger.

Still he knew his goal now. Knew its direction. Its general location. And the sight of the sun and fresh air had already done wonders to his aching lungs. He almost slid back down the ladder when he felt a brush in the wind and turned back to the tower. A doorway led inside. Perhaps there was a way farther up. Perhaps there was even some supplies to plunder?

All fair questions. All good reasons to avoid returning to the vile swamp for a little longer. So Caim turned from the swamp and stepped inside the stone archway to the interior of the tower. A small bonfire flickered in the center of the room. High to the right, a body lay draped over a raised balcony.

And a giant wolf slumbered to the left wall.

Caim froze mid-step, eyes fixed on the great beast. It was thrice his size with a dark black and grey hide. Rough fur twisted over its skin and its head resting among its solid paws. It lay curled near the left wall, behind it a large tombstone and arrayed around it many old swords, driven into the stone

He paused and waited but it showed no signs of moving. Cautiously he stepped towards it. His foot seeming like the crash of a Warhammer in the quiet place. The stillness reminded him of something old. Something sacred. Like a crypt left untouched.

He stepped closer, listening to the torches crackle around the great wolf. Standing closer he could see it did not breath nor move. The world was petrified, still forever. He relaxed his guard and lowered his weapon.

"You are the great wolf of Farron?" he asked the statue, unsure why he would converse with the dead thing. Many swords stood behind and around the beast. The entire room felt like a shine built to honor this great creature. The vey creature the Farron watchers attributed their power to.

The wolf, however, had no more blood to give. No more chance of the Farron watchers returning to what they had been. Their ranks were stagnant. Their future gone. They were lords meant to die now and nothing more.

Caim touched the wolf gently. It was cold and hard. But there was something deeper. It flickered with a life long since lost. Just the dying embers remained in this shell but it was enough to draw out power. To bestow some semblance of it but Caim did not know how to reach it.

"I should leave you to rest then." He said, stepping away and making a small salute followed by the pyromancer's prayer. "Sleep well great wolf. Let others watch the dark." With his farewell made he stepped away and lit the bonfire turning his attention to the corpse above.

Its legs dangled from the hole in the wall several feet above, and he could see a pouch of something on its back. Finding no stairs or way up he went back outside and circled the tower, finding a set of stairs up but no path inside.

"Something hidden, is it?" he mused rubbing his hand along the stone. He stopped where the door should be. There was something. The was wasn't right. It flowed wrong. With a solid thrust he pushed his hand forward. The wall gave like it was made of sand. The image vanished to nothing around his out stretched arm.

An illusion. An old one left in the world. He chucked to himself and stepped in the tunnel. Sure enough there was the body laying before him. A poor fool clutching to the ground for dear life. A pouch of dry ashes on his back.

Caim took the ashes and bid the fool farewell, dropping back into the chamber. The last item of interest was the elevator

The simple stone slab sat beside the Farron Wolf upon raised stairs. A single lever beside it and a stone button on the floor of the slab. Choosing to venture instead of cowering he stepped on the button and felt the ancient machinery begin working. Grinding and whining as it pulled him up through the tower and to its highest reaches. The ride itself took some time attesting to the height.

Stepping out into the sun was almost blinding. Even below the sun had not been so clear. Here it shone without he could to block it and was warming to his sticky skin. Caim sucked in a deep breath of clean warm air and let it out. The warmth and clarity was invigorating and brought a small smile to his face.

Such a simple thing as seeing the sun did wonders to Caim's spirit. He stepped to the tiny banister and looked down at the tiny form that was the Farron swamp. Ringed in and festering in its own space below the towering Lothric castle to the right.

He left the sight and the sun and moved to the stairs to the right climbing them even higher to the bridge above. As the stairs leveled off he paused. The bridge was open and scattered with rubble. Gates at either end of the wall were broken but still towered above, separating the wall into battle sections for security and ensuring a siege would fail

At the far end of the bridge was a towering monstrosity that made Caim freeze in place. "No. Another one?" Wandering aimlessly near the end of the wall was a towering stone grey monster. It was easily fifteen feet tall and bloated around its gut. From it back was a set of jagged wing like protrusions. As it stomped around with its massive awkward gait it waved a gray stone hammer.

Like the last demon both weapon and creature seemed to be made of the same stone material. A great rock lumbering around the bridge like some forgotten guard. Each step rumbled the rock under his feet. No.

He made his choice. There was no need to battle the creature. Perhaps if he were stronger he might consider it. As it was, battling it was not something he needed to do. It was not his job to purge every evil from the lands. He turned his back on the beast and returned to the lift, riding it down to the swamp.

The stench returned in full force and Caim was forced to a take a moment to acclimate before stepping to the ladders edge and looking down at the filth that made up the swamp. The fire loomed in the distance. The beacon he needed to find his way. Still, there would be no safe passage.

"Delaying won't fix it." He said mounting the ladder. "Action is the remedy of the world."

When he hit the muck he moved quickly to solid ground. The solid ground linked to another island but stopped. Beyond the burning pyre was nothing but dirty fluid shifting among a graveyard of dying trees.

Then one of the trees moved and Caim ah dot stop himself from panicking. No. it was a smaller tree moving with something. Discovering what it was did not ease his dread.

The great creature was similar to the corrupted creatures he had battled but at least twice their size. Maybe thrice. It lumbered in the swamp, using a whole uprooted tree as its crutch. Its head was a twisted mass of horns, its entire form shifting as if held together by wisps of dark cloth. It waded through the deep bog with little trouble.

"You are right in my way." Caim mumbled. He would have to pass the beast. But to fight it in the swamp would be foolish. The limited solid ground didn't give him much chance either. The tree it held would make a terrifying club. Still, he could circumvent that weapon. He was quicker, surly, than this monster.

There was an island next to the beast but he would never reach it before being forced to engage with the monster. No. He would have to play this smart. Let it come to him. Fight where he was strongest. Stepping beside the foul-smelling fire he drew out his bow.

The arrow flew true and drove into the towering monster's backside. It turned leisurely to regard Caim. That shot didn't seem to have bothered it. "That's right." He put away the bow and drew his sword and shield free. "I'm right here!" He called, banging the sword to shield.

Now, moving with sudden purpose the monster lopped through the muck. Caim stepped back and the monster ran through roaring fire oblivious to any damage it caused. His sword laid into its leg with a solid crunch. Filth and blood tearing away as he cut for flesh. Then it raised its trunk to smash him beneath its roots

Caim moved, letting the trunk hit the ground beside him. He moved in to attack but a ghostly howl made him stop. From the trunk of the white tree it held, red smoke like skulls flew forth streaking into the air before arcing down and falling towards Caim

 _Magic?!_ He rolled away hitting the filth of the swamp and leaping through the muck as the skulls hit the ground. One struck his back and Caim staggered. The impact was like a hammer blow made of ice. Chilling and heavy. His feet came on solid ground again as the monster returned tree raised for another blow.

Caim used his shield to survive the blow. It hammered his arm and made his bones grind under the pressure. Still, he held. He pushed back as the skulls appeared again. Every swing then, every attack would create more of these. He dodged the skulls, though one still hit his shoulder and laid into the creature.

 _Have to end this quick._ He slashed twice and conjured a great combustion to engulf the monster. Though it only caught a part of the tree and much of its impressive torso the monster still gave a keening cry and staggered. A grin stretched across his face and Caim lunged driving the sword into its belly. Drawing his left hand up he breathed deep of the sickness of blood in the swamp.

And let it out as gout of fire into the monster horned face.

The fire engulfed it, searing the dirt and muck from its body and charring the flesh and bone beneath. The tree wielder made a gasping cry before it began to fall. First to its knees and then face down into the dirt before its body vanished dispersing into dust and souls.

Caim breathed deeply of the power it left behind. It was big but he had felt it from his first strike landing. It was more fragile than it seemed. Likely ages of rot on its body left it vulnerable. With the monster gone Caim took stock of the land around him. He moved to the next solid island near where the creature had lurked. Here he paused to drink of the estus and ease the wounds he had taken.

Ahead, lit by another brazier was a set of stairs. Through he couldn't see through the canopy he knew this must be the last of the fires. It was a long run through the swamps muck but Caim reached it with only a small racking cough.

The top of the plateau was empty. No guards or enemies to behold. Only another stone shrine with a small flame. Again, the stone depicted a different image. This one of four men. Four kings from the crowns they wore, were standing beside one another. Below, the flames consumed them.

Caim ignored the estrange etching and snuffed the flame as he had the others. In the distance, he heard a long grinding screech. Stone on stone twisting some distance away but loud enough that he could hear it

"Gate must be open." He thought aloud turning back to the stairs. It was a long walk back to the gate but without the big monster or leeches to bar the way he found it much easier. Indeed, the gate he had seen before was open. Both stone doors having swung inward.

He returned to the bonfire and restored himself and his estus before venturing down the stone pathway to the solid ground of the gate. He could not understand what magic bound the gate or controlled its opening but he let such thoughts leave him. He was no scholar and should not waste time on such trivialities.

Inside the gate was a path lined with burning candles leading into a green wood. Countless old rusted swords marked the path, struck here and there like grave markers. A stray spear or pike among them. The candlelight path led ahead where it split going up or continuing on. Caim followed the candles to the right, leaving the higher ground.

Corvians sat in their shriveled states. Feathers and stretched skin held tight in priamtive prayer. Caim stepped in and made quick work of each one, Cutting them down before they could change. When the leader, one standing on the higher cliff screeched and waved its staff, sending fire below, Caim answered with his own flame, burning the bird creature to cinders.

The candles stopped here. While the weapons that marked the path continued to thin out. This place still had life to it. The trees were green. The grass retaining some life. The parasitic vines from the swamp had not reached into this grove yet. He moved through the path and up to a steep hill. He slowed as he heard the sound of clashing weapons.

Steel on steel. Growls and howls. The sounds of combat echoing just up the hill. Caim slowed and stepped up the path carefully aware of his surroundings. A stone structure to his right. An open area ahead of him that lead to another large stone structure. More swords dotted the path and surrounding trees.

The battle ensued just ahead. In the center of the courtyard was two tall lithe figures in dark armor battling several of the corrupted monsters. A poison cloud filled the air and engulfed the combat before he could see any more. Another corrupted beast lunged into the cloud screeching. A dying keen came from the cloud and blood spilled across the ground.

 _Infighting?_ Caim moved closer, staying low. There was no need to get involved in the fight if he could avoid it. They could fight it out among themselves. Still he couldn't help but be curious about what was going on.

Moving up the path the mist began to fade. The solid thunk of steel meeting flesh was followed by a body tumbling to the ground. The smoke cleared and a single lithe figure in dark armor spun to another pair of the corrupted creatures. His large sword swung up and cleaved through one. The other drove its spear into his shoulder.

He spun and split the creature's head, sending it to join the others on the ground. Then it turned. It looked ahead to the great doors ahead but turned back. Its eyes caught Caim and a shiver of ice ran up his spine. Breath came in ragged gasps. "no." He whispered.

The dark skull mask. The skeletal armor. The long, wide sword. He had seen them before. Dozens of them. A legion of the dark wraiths swarming through the fire. Blood spilling into the ground. Those dead eyes stared back at him. The dark skeletal frame slowly stalked towards him, sword to its side, free hand outstretched. He knew what that free hand could do. He had seen it. Life pulled right from someone's throat.

The cloud was flushed away. Fire like molten steel rushed up his back. It burned his mind and he could only feel his grip on the sword tighten painfully. Fire welled inside him. Roaring in his chest. _Monsters! Demons! Why are they still alive?! Why do they get to survive?!_

With a scream Caim ran, feet beating the ground as he closed gap, shield abounded for the roiling flame in his left hand.

The Dark wraith leapt, thrust its sword in a quick jab. Caim side stepped the blow, feeling it graze his shoulder. His blade came up, cleaving through the monster's torso. The armor buckled and cracked but the rotten flesh beneath held. It gave a deep guttural hiss, drawing back its left hand. A dark light glowing from within.

Caim rolled away as the dark wraith swung, grabbing at his head. "I'm not such easy prey you bastard!" Caim breathed deep, sucking in power and pushing it to his hand. The fire ball formed and he hurled it, howling as the fire engulfed his enemy. The flame licked at the armor but fell away as the wraith charged, his sword coming around in a vicious combo.

He dodged, ducked and took a blow to his chest. Blood spilled but Caim threw himself back cleaving at the dark knight's shoulder. The left hand came up again, the light spreading into a shield that repelled his sword. Caim staggered back and the dark wraith took full advantage.

Stomping his foot, he gripped the large dark sword and swung upward, the edge catching Caim's chest and launching him through the air with a scream of pain. He hit the earth rolling and bleeding before falling still.

His burning hand hit the earth and pushed him up. Blood flowed freely from his chest. Warm flecks spotted his face. Everything hurt. Still, his enemy stood there. Sword to his side, hand outstretched. Calm and ready.

 _Peace._ He took a long breath. As Gin had taught him. Anger is good. It burns the fire in your soul but rage? Rage was a fool's game. A coward's way to die. Rage would get you nothing but blood. And not your enemies'.

Caim exhaled, letting the fire seep from his mouth. The dark wraith stepped forward and Caim spread his legs. No time to draw this out or go mad. No. This monster needs to die here and now. He stared, sizing up his enemy.

Then it lunged, sword arm extending and twisting into a sudden thrust aimed at his head. Caim stepped forward, ducking as the blade passed over his head. Both hands leading with his own weapon and burying it in the monster's heart. He twisted it through the sick heart before tearing it free. Black ichor like blood spilled from the gaping hole. The wraith made a final hiss before collapsing to the ground.

Caim held up his flame and let it loose on the body. A stream of orange fire engulfed the fallen dark wraith and he watched as it burned to ashes. When he finally let the power fade, the body was little more than charcoal.

He crushed the broken form under his boot. "Stay dead. All of you. Stay. Dead." He growled, twisting the black trash with his heel. Even taking another breath, he could feel the surge in his chest. The tremor in his hands. It had been a long time since he had seen these creature's. A lifetime ago, amid a sea of blood.

Amid glowing red eyes.

Caim left the dead body and checked the others. There was another dead Dark wraith, this one he also immolated before looting the corrupted monsters. They were all dead. A path of death leading back where Caim had come, where the Dark wraiths had come ahead of him. He looked up the path where a solid stone keep stood, its doors closed.

From beyond he could head the clashing of steel. Metal on metal. The sounds of battle being waged. Repeated banging continued getting louder as he approached the door. Just beyond the door. To the heart of the Farron keep. The Abyss watchers were battling something within. Perhaps more Darkw wraiths.

The thought made his blood boil and he pushed, forcing the ancient doors open and stepped inside. The thick iron scent of blood hit him in the face. Caim stepped forward, sword in hand to face the Abyss watchers.

He stopped. "What in the nine hells is this?"

 **Author's note: Been a long time since an update. I've been real busy with real world issues. Work. Money. Personal things. Long story short I've had trouble sitting down to write and edit lately but I'm trying to get back in the saddle.**

 **That said I am still having fun with this story. As I get closer to Caim's biggest moments I just want to write more. I feel like the Farron swamp was a real pain and not fun to write but now that I have pushed beyond it I think I can try to pick up some speed.**

 **Well that's all for now. I hope if you have read this far that you are enjoying yourself and want to keep reading. Thanks and feel free to tell me what you think.**


	15. Chapter 15: Power

The open room was filled, littered with bodies. Broken heaps of armor and flesh with their great swords lying with them. The room had a throne like air to it. A regal meeting hall at one time in its life. Now it was a battle field. Two figures stood on the far side of the room, exchanging blows.

The two were identical. Tall forms with flowing capes, sharp hats, light armor and wielding enormous great swords in one hand, curved wedged daggers in their off hands. The echoing metallic clashing rang out in the open arena. Caim watched as the two watchers dueled before one stepped in, knocking the other back and ran him through on the great sword.

The air stilled as the impaled fighter fell still and limp on the blade. The victor slowly withdrawing his blade.

"What the fuck is going on?" Looking around he could see the countless bodies. More members of the legion in their armor. Blood dried into the stone. Weapons broken and discarded. There were no other bodies besides the legion, just piles of dead abyss watchers. A massacre.

The dead watcher hit the ground with a clatter of metal. The survivor slowly turned, the pointed helm raising to meet his gaze. With slow care, it raised the great sword, tip towards Caim. His other hand crossed at his elbow to aim the curved dagger in some manner of salute.

"Hmm." Caim stepped further into the room. "I guess there is still something in there. Sorry, but while I may admire you, I am here to kill you." He lifted his sword, holding it vertically before his face in a salute Gin had taught him. "Let's see what a lord of cinder can do."

The watcher lowered its weapon to the ground. It stepped forward. Caim mimicked the motion. It broke into a run and Caim sped up. When they neared the watcher lunged, great sword brought to bear. Caim leapt and met him edge to edge.

Caim staggered under the blow and skidded to a stop. The watcher rushing with sword coming around. The edge resounded like a bell off his shield and Caim stepped in through the attack. The dagger deflected his sword and he spun away. He got away as the watcher swung the sword up, sending a plume of dust into the air. Fire formed in his hand and flashed out, engulfing the Farron warrior.

Flames trailed as it rushed through the attack, sword high. Caim evaded the overhead blow and pressed in. The dagger glanced off his shield and his sword slipped in, dragging along the leg. Sparks flew from the armor, a graze. Air hummed and Caim ducked another swing of the heavy sword. He was strong. That sword would smash him as easily as split him in half. But he could see his movements. He could read them.

He swung high, the sword catching the warrior's dagger and turning it aside. He turned back, dragging the edge of his sword across the knight's chest. Cloth and metal splitting. He followed through, slipping inside the larger sword's reach. The curved dagger lashed out against his shield. He pushed and knocked the man off balance.

 _Got you._ Caim stepped in, his sword coming up along the watcher's open side.

He heard the hum before he felt the thunderous impact in his back. Tearing impact threw him to the ground. Burning pain erupted through his back from shoulder to hip. Warmth, sudden and shocking, flooded his skin. Blood. His blood. His face hit the stone and instinct made him roll away. The sword struck again sundering stone where he had fallen.

The second watcher lifted his sword from the stone and turned to face Caim. The first moving to stand at his shoulder. "Two?" he panted. "Where the hells did you come from?" He turned his sword around. His left arm hung limply at his side. He could feel blood flowing down his legs. The gash in his back was bad. Bones were broken too.

The second attacker had gotten him dead to rights. Unprotected he would be dead. The heavy armor had saved his life, if not his flesh. He sucked down a shot of estus and let the sudden healing take over as the watchers charged.

He retreated. Pushing was not an option now. The two fought well, each covering the other. The gaps in their attacks created by their oversized weapons were gone now. As one swung the second wound up. He dove in and the other leapt across the floor, circling around behind. He had to shift to keep from being surrounded.

He tested their speed, baiting one out and driving in. He managed to land a blow befor the second closed in. In escaping the pincer, he nearly lost his sword arm to another blow. The huge blades still caught him more than ounce. The first shattering his shield arm and the second laying open his side. He evaded the third trap that nearly robbed him of his sword arm.

Then the change happened. The tip Ciam needed. As the two closed the gap, the second watcher moving to take his swing he was knocked aside, a form of metal and whipping cloth. Only as the two landed and separated could Caim even identify it. Another watcher. This one wasent joining the others. It seemed to be intent to kill the second one. The two crossed swords with a clatter of metal.

Caim turned his attention to the first watcher as he charged. A one on one fight. "I can do this." He panted. "I am not here to lose to you." His hands stung gripping the sword but he waited and rushed, driving the sword into a sharp thrust.

He hit the air.

The watcher dove around him, his sword skirting the ground in a shower of sparks. Caim turned and he was already summersaulting through the air, sword high. It fell, before his shield could be raised. The edge cut into his collarbone, bone split and blood spilling. He dug his heels to the stone shifted and stepped in, lashing out with howls and screams of anger.

The sword grazed off the large sword. Then pushed aside by the dagger. He pressed in and caught a clean blow to the helmet with a solid ring. Metal dented and bent but the Farron's dagger lashed his face, cutting his check and above his eyes. Not a fair trade.

It came suddenly. A realization as he stepped away and sucked down his last estus drink. A sudden chill that chased away the warmth.

He was losing.

The watcher was harmed. Scores on his armor and cuts in his flesh but he was one of many. And he was still in far better shape than Caim. His reach greater. His endurance limitless. He was not stressed in this battle. He strode with the calmness of a victor. Sword held casually to his side. Effortless.

The stance stoked the fires in Caim's chest. He conjured the fire to his hands and lashed out. Fire engulfing the Watcher's form. Again and gain he hurled his fire, dodging away, deflecting the heavy sword as he had to. For all the effect, he might as well have been throwing leaves at the swordsman.

The watcher stepped through the fire. Sword point leading. Caim evaded the thrust and stepped in, his sword scoring a deep gouge on the man's side. Black blood spilled with torn metal. A solid hit. The sound of armored feet didn't match as the knight turned.

The other one.

He turned. His shield catching the upward swing. The metal absorbed the edge but he force still knocked Caim from his feet, throwing him across the stones. He tumbled painfully until he lay at the feet of the other watcher.

He could only watch as the sword fell, edge piercing his chest and rending his armor. Hot blood filled his throat and lungs. Screaming failed him. He cried out weakly as the blade was pulled free. His chest was laid open, blood and bone visible to the world. He sucked in air, raspy and pained. Wheezing fruitless breathes.

His hands fumbled unable to grasp the flask. Blood wetting them. Fear making them shake.

 _NO. No. No. Not like this. Not here. Not now!_

The watchers gathered above him, eyes hidden beneath their metal pointe helms. The first raised its sword. The final strike. The mercy blow.

 _NO! no mercy. I don't need it. I can't die here! I still have things to do! I will not die a failure!_

His hand, still moving reached to his belt. The sword fell. Bones cracked. The world went dark.

. . .

Ash filled Caim's lungs.

He coughed and spit, getting the flakes from his mouth. Hands scrambled in the dust throwing up a cloud as he scurried to his feet. The stone battleground was gone. Breathing, returning. Slowly steadying as he took in his surroundings. The Firelink Shrine. Ash covered floor and flickering fire.

He spun around and saw the Firekeeper slowly stand from her place. "Ashen One?" She asked, tilting her head curiously.

He waved her off and nearly hit himself for the stupid action. "I-I'm alright. Startled." He sat beside the fire and touched his chest. Wounds gone. How long had he been here? Long enough to heal already.

A low chuckle drew his eyes to the other side of the cave. Hawkwood sat hunched, back shaking with his low laugh. "Bite off more than you can chew, lad?"

Caim was on his feet in a flurry of ash. His sword hissed from its sheath. He stopped before Hawkwood, weapon to his side. The old watcher looked up to meet his eyes. His hands stayed in his lap, not reaching to his own weapon.

"You wish to sit there," Caim said between clenched teeth. "Then do so quietly. When you can drag your wretched carcass from this hall you may judge me." Turning away before his sword hand itched any further Caim stormed down the hall to the shrine.

He had lost. It was a fact but he didn't want to admit. His mind reeled trying to conjure a defense. He was unprepared. Blindsided. Tired. None of these weak excuses were enough to overcome his own dark thoughts.

 _I wasn't strong enough._ It was the truth. Not a very kind truth but the truth all the same. He needed more power. There was one place he knew he could start.

Down eh stairs past Andre was Cornyx, waiting patiently. He took the tome with a small laugh. "Ah, what a fine student you are. We can both learn much from this simple tome. Yes, much to learn."

"I hope so. I need more fire if I'm to defeat these lords." He said sitting down to let the old man read from the tome.

"Well, you must understand, knowledge is dangerous. The flame also." He held a finger from where his eyes were glued to the tome. "Heed my words Unkindled one. Fear the fire. The home of pyromancy Izalith was scorched by the very fire it created. Undoubtly it was the flame of Chaos tangled by a witch's hand. But who's to say this bonfire's flame is any different." His eyes looked up. "Or your own."

"I am in control of my fire." He held up his flame. "I am aware of what I am."

Cornyx chuckled. "Aye. I have heard many such claims from many dead men."

Few words passed as Caim learned the new pyromancies from the tome. A greater form of his weak fireball, a shattering fireball, his own poison mist and a greater form of the intense sweat ability. It was a small help but any more fire in his arsenal was worthwhile.

He cared for his sword and other weapons with Andre even beginning to reinforce the katana and scythe. Diversity would pay off in time. He made his rounds happy to find Greirat returned from his thievery with a few new trinkets. The shrine maiden had little to offer either.

He gave what lost souls he had to the Firekeeper and let the power flow into him. It was a comforting change but still it felt like it wasn't enough. He could still feel the force of the Abyss watchers sword. It was stronger than him by a great, vast valley.

He needed a bigger bridge.

Returning to the bonfire he hesitated. No. Confronting the Watchers again as foolish. He need to explore. He needed to find what could give him the edge. He touched the sword was spirited away into the void.

. . .

The swamp was still filthy. Thankfully his time was brief. He crossed the gates to where the corvians and darkwraiths had fallen. He explored the area more fully. The stone keep, as it happened, led to another bonfire. He followed the path, cutting down the twisted creatures there. They guarded the wrong path so sneaking up on them was easy.

Each fell, including the great crystal lizard that slumbered in the path. The stone keep was in shambles around him. Bodies laying abandoned in the corners. Their possessions clutched in their rotted hands.

He passed an iron gate, pulling the old barrier open and continued further. A path to the side lead back to the earlier swamp. With familiar clear water and shaded trees. Ahead the keep deepened, the sky opening and he continued. He paused when he saw the new gatekeeper.

A towering figure in full dark armor. A sharp shield over his left arm, his right holding a massive great sword over his shoulder. Caim sized him up and let loose his new fire orb. The huge ball consumed the knight for an instant before he charged through the flames. Seemingly unfettered.

The knight, while immensely strong was limited by his weapon. Every swing was slow and foretold easily. A thrust to his shield threw him off balance but Caim recovered quickly, dodging inside the swords reach and lashing at the old metal armor with his own sword. The steel shredded until flesh began to bleed. The knight fell in a heap with a final slash to his throat.

Caim panted and sipped at the estus. The cuts were minor but his body was sore. The knight was kind enough to leave his great sword which he tucked away. Wielding such a great weapon was beyond his current strength. Far beyond.

Down the stairs the knight had guarded he found another body, this one with a pair of curved swords and the armor of a foreign mercenary. Nothing Caim found very appealing. Nothing that could turn the tables. Farther down the path was something else entirely. Resting in a chair was a long rotted body. Clutched in its dried fingers was a coal, still glowing with power.

Caim tore it from the wasted fingers holding the cola up to the light. "Andre could make use of you." He mused before tucking the glowing item away. When the keep turned up nothing else Caim walked back to the bonfire and used it to jump to the Shrine once again.

The halls seemed hollower as he went about the same tasks. Turning over the coal to Andre, accepting the burly smith's thanks. Passing the blind Maiden to ensure she was still safe. Pass the collected ash to the shrine handmaiden and purchasing what supplies he needed. His last stop put him kneeling before the firekeeper, drawing the power from within her.

"It's not enough." He cursed, rising to his feet.

"Ashen one?" The pale woman asked, turning her masked face quizzically.

"The power. It's not enough. Not to face the Lords of Cinder." He looked at his hand. His muscles had become denser. His eyes keener. Still…. "If I face them again, I'll die."

There was a silence before the Firekeeper's hands covered his own. "Ashen One, it is thine duty to pursue the lords of Cinder. It is within your power to defeat them."

"Then why do I draw power from you?" he asked sharply.

Her hands pulled away and the woman recoiled briefly before she folded them before her again. "You must use whatever tools you have available to you." She said, bowing her head. "I am sorry if I spoke beyond my knowledge."

Caim let out a long breath and turned away. He still didn't understand that woman. She acted as though a slave, which he supposed she was, despite her power. She would be tethered to the flame until such time she or he died.

It was another morbid hopeless thought. Those were getting worse.

He touched the sword and pulled away back to the lands of Lothric. This time he set foot on the shore of the poisoned swamp. There was much here he hadn't explored and with the herbs he had from the shrine maiden he could now explore more of the twisted marsh.

The air was just as vile as before. Chewing the herbs now and then helped clear his system of the toxins. He could stand the toxic sludge for longer now. Many of the denizens had returned and again Caim cut them down, spilling blood and consuming the lost souls. More power. Still, it wasn't enough.

"It's never enough." He mused. Stepping onto solid ground again. The flame in his left hand was a reminder of that. No power had ever been enough to sate his needs. Not even the fire of pyromancy. Not even the power of lost souls.

His eyes turned to the distance where the Farron keep resided beyond the dead trees. The Farron watchers waited beyond those dead monoliths. Stronger. Faster. Warriors hardened by centuries of magic and blood.

His thoughts ended when he heard footsteps. He turned to catch the figure approaching from the broken shrine. The stone offering some cover as the beast stepped into the light.

A darkwraith. Armor pristine and sword held to his side, strode towards him. Gait slow and steady, hand raised.

"Another one?" Caim hissed, drawing his sword and sweeping the dirt away. "Alright. I need some tension released."

The wraith seemed to understand and charged sword overhead. Caim sidestepped and dove in with his own sword. Steel rang on steel. Edges collided and scrapped, dove and struck. Caim exchanged blows with the much fiercer Darkwraith as they danced in the swamp.

This one was stronger Than the others. Not wounded as they had been. His sword struck armor and cut but did not meet flesh. His own shield bent under the monsters blows. The overhead swings forcing him to avoid them entirely or risk his arm. More than one found its way past his guard and spilled blood into the swamp.

He tucked away his flask and stepped inside a wide swing to slash the man's abdomen open. The armor held but cracked. Progress. The step left an opening and the wraith's free hand snapped out, wreathed in dark power. Caim stiffened as it clasped his head and forced him down. Pain. Cold and sharp tore at every inch of his skin biting deeper into his bones.

The heat moved to his face with a scream, his legs going numb, his fingers growing weak. The wraith seemed vibrant. His armor creaking and shifting in the new light. Mending.

"Get…" His left hand surged with fire. "Off!" Striking up the fire erupted in a great combustion, driving the beast back. Caim kicked its chest throwing it to the muk as he scrambled to his feet taking another drink of the estus. "So that's what life drain feels like." He muttered shaking the cobwebs from his head.

The Darkwraith was back on his feet, dark sword in hand. _Can't let that happen again._ He tightened his muscles, fire roaring in his palm. He hurled the fire engulfing the wraith. The armor held and sure enough he charged through the attack, blade high.

Caim was behind the wraith before the sword strike finished., His sword drove through the heart, twisted and ripped free with a blast of combustion to throw him down. He didn't wait and gripped the sword high before bringing it down on the fallen wraith and splitting his skull mask, and the head beneath, in two.

Panting, Caim pulled his weapon free and watched the still body. No signs of life. With the deed done he raised his flame, ready to burn the body to ash. Then he stopped. The sword was still in good shape, driven into the soft earth beside the dead wraith.

The idea of even touching the abyss creature's weapon made his stomach roll but still his fingers wrapped around the hilt and pulled the sword free. It was a heavy thick blade. Meant for use with strength as much as skill. Its heft would cut through anything. He knew, having felt it bite into his own bones.

"You must use all the tools at your disposal." He said aloud recalling the firekeeper's words. Any tool. There were other tools he could use.

He returned the shrine and strode past the firekeeper oblivious to her words. The dark sword was heavy in his hand as he moved down the stairs and the long corridor along the side of the shrine. Yoel still sat hunched and hidden in his hood leaning on his staff at the end of the path.

He raised his head slightly as Caim approached but wisely didn't speak. Caim held the sword up for the creature to see.

"What power can you give me?" he asked, his eyes hard lines, his hands tight.

A dry chuckle came from the hunched figure. "Let us begin, bearer of the dark sign."


	16. Chapter 16: The Abyss Watchers

The sword was heavy in his hand. The weight was difficult to get used to as the dark sword was far heavier than the Lothric longsword he had used for so long. Still it seemed to fit perfectly in the bony dark gauntlets that wrapped his forearms. Like they were made for each other.

The stone of the keep passed around him but he was focused, his intent forward. He stepped into forestry before the Farron's keep and stopped.

The world was different now. Sharper. Clearer. More intense. He could hear the footfalls of the Darkwraiths as they made their way towards the keep. The raspy hissing breath of the corrupted guards among the trees. The air carried the burning soot of torches. The sharp bite of steel. Familiar.

He moved, slipping through the trees and cutting down the closest corrupted creature. The second fought back but it too fell to a few quick swings of the new great blade. Each motion fed that new pit inside him. Sating it for a little longer.

The Darkwraiths fought and He stepped from the trees waiting until they had finished the other creatures. Then they noticed and turned. Caim stood in plain sight. Shield on one arm, burning hand clasped beneath it. The dark sword held low to his side in mockery of their own casual stance. The wraiths turned and stalked towards him, hands raised.

Caim let out a laugh. "I feared you once." He said quietly. He raised the sword slowly. "Let's see how far I've come."

The first wraith lunged, his sword striking out. Caim was already moving letting it pass aside as he cleaved into its side. Bone and flesh gave way to the great swing, black blood spraying across the dirt. The wraith hissed but Caim pressed and cut again. Then again sending the creature to the ground.

"Next?" he said turning on the second wraith. The dark hand reached for his face but Caim stepped back out of reach sword slashing quickly. The wraith recoiled before raising its sword with both hands and driving it down to skewer the pyromancer.

Caim took the hit with his shield skidding in the grass before rushing back, the tip of his sword skewering the wraith's chest. With a twist and kick the wraith fell into a boneless heap that Caim spit upon. "Stay gone this time." He said, walking up the steps to the great doors.

The sounds of battle had stopped on the other side. The watchers were no longer fighting each other. They were waiting. Caim took a long breath, taking in the lost souls around him and the fire in air before pushing into the room.

The watcher stood across from him. Still as a silent sentry. As he entered it repeated the legion salute, sword held out, dagger crossing his arm. Caim dragged his sword across the stone, sending up a shower of sparks.

"I'm not here for formality." He said, "I'm here for your head."

The watcher lowered his weapons and paused. The air hung still. Silent as Caim looked into its empty face.

Then it charged.

The watcher leaped the distance of the room with a single low lunge, swinging his sword in a massive arc. Caim stepped away from both the opening blow and the subsequent follow up. The Watcher shifted, tumbling with its sword high before bringing it down. All too slow. Caim was inside the reach of the attack before it fell, the sword crashing behind him.

The heavy sword laid into the warrior's back. Armor rent and tore under the heavy edge. The watcher staggering forward, off balance. Caim attacked in a flurry of motion, tearing into the warriors back before the huge sword came around.

He ducked the blow but tasted the dagger as it ripped into his head, blood and metal hitting the floor as he rolled away from the Farron's next sword swing. He tucked into the roll and came to his feet in a flurry of cloth and metal. The Farron watcher swung around, holding its blade high.

Caim met the edge with his shield pushing and knocking the big beast off balance. His sword came up and under cleaving into the breastplate and sending blood into air. A solid blow. He ducked the dagger and slashed the leg. Traded a sword blow for a grazing strike and staggered back, drinking the estus.

Footsteps behind him. Caim was gone before the second watcher cracked the flagstones with its sword. The pointed helmet turned sharply to follow him. Both of them now stood, shoulder to shoulder before him. There was no motion or noise. No acknowledgement. Still, they moved together.

"Two on one." He shifted back, cradling the fire in his hand. "Let's have at it then." He hurled the flame orb.

Both watchers slithered away. The first dove as the other ran closer. Caim ducked and weaved. Turning a crushing swing into a grazing blow with his shield. He tumbled over the stone and over the Farron's sword. In all the chaos, he managed a single passing blow on the watchers. Too much steel to avoid forever. He couldn't get the distance he needed either.

Caim blocked a heavy swing that sent his feet from the ground. Tumbling over the ground he clawed at the stone to stop his backwards motion. The other watcher was already on him, closing the gap. Huffing he planted his feet. Block the blow, weave around, trip him up and go for the wounded one. It was his only plan.

There was a blur. A crash of steel and the watcher was gone. A third armored form slammed into the swordsman and the two tumbled away in a clattering of metal and cloth. Both rose, swords raised and began to trading blows like feral animals. Steel ringing on steel.

Caim turned his mind to the first watcher again. Not willing to let an opportunity pass he charged the hunter. He dodged the heavy thrust and came up, sword splitting into the outstretched arm. The dagger raked his shield, his sword caught the pointed helm. The two clashed and broke apart.

The watcher raised his sword, slowly, blood spilling from his broken armor. Caim, panting tried to regain his stance. His muscles burned and he could feel his wounds protesting. But he was alive. It was a one on one fight again. He could win. It would have to be a quick win. This needed to be over.

He stepped forward, slowly. The watcher made a long step and lunged again with its spinning slash. Caim dove over the blade watching as the watcher came around again, spinning in a great circle. Caim stepped away and watched. With a great heaving effort, it swung over on its left hand bringing the great sword overhead in a powerful arc.

 _That's it._ He charged under the sword arc, stepping aside as the it fell to his right, missing by less than a hands breadth. The dark sword drove through the broken chest plate and into the dark flesh. Black blood spilled over the sword hilt and through Caim's clenched hands. The Watcher stiffened and slowly fell away the sword leaving his chest with vile hiss.

The sound of metal crashing made Caim spin around. The other watchers collapsed in boneless heaps of armor and cloth behind him. Stillness fell across the room. The first watcher, bleeding over the cobblestones, stumbled back and slowly fell to the ground. He fell still.

Caim panted and slowly regained his wind. Slowing his breathing he lowered his sword and stared at the fallen lord. He was looking at his victory but some nagging itch kept him from feeling the joy of it. Something was wrong.

It was slow. Almost slow enough he missed as the first drops of blood began to lift in the air. Drops formed into a trail of shimmering crimson mist that lifted into the air. The path of blood floated up and slowly gathered.

Flowing into the fallen Abyss Watcher.

The blood fused through his armor and with a sudden rush, His sword became wreathed in flames.

"Fuck." Caim huffed.

With a slow, deliberate act, the abyss watcher rose. Is word sword driven into the stone to pull himself up to his feet. His arm swung back, his burning sword held parallel to the ground, his body low. Fire flickered along his armor, embers falling away from his revived form.

He looked to Caim. A new, living fire in his eyes.

"Alright then," Caim reached to his coat and removed the small warm ember, holding it up in his hand. "The last round." He crushed the ember in his palm and felt the fire rushed into his muscles. His skin flared in flame and the embers danced over his armor. Caim breathed deeply of the surging power as it rushed into his limbs. His fingers clenching his sword.

They stood off from each other on the broken floor. The Abyss watcher and the wielder of the dark. The watchers flaming sword swept up and he charged with a sudden bestial lunge. Caim stepped forward, his sword coming down on the charging beast.

The two met in an explosion of fire and force. Caim planted his feet as his blade grinded against the abyss watcher's slab of steel. The sword shifted and the watcher stepped in, leveraging and throwing the smaller man across the cobblestones.

Caim skidded to a halt, dragging his left hand along the stone to slow himself. He was up as the watcher lunged again, sword swinging in another wide, low arc and trailing fire across the ground. He rolled through the flames feeling the heat sear his skin. The watchers follow-up was wild and missed.

Caim slung his shield to his arm and widened his stance. The watcher lunged again his flaming sword coming around. He ducked, turning the sword up and over with his shield and stepped in. The dark sword bit through his legs and curved up to his chest. The watcher's dagger drove down and drilled into his shoulder, cutting to bone.

Cursing and bleeding, he kicked and rolled away as the watcher swept with his sword again, the wind chasing him across the chamber. Caim rose into time to block the thrust with his shield, the fire burning through his guard. He stepped away blocking the following strikes and managing one of his own that forced the watcher back.

A hasty drink healed his burns and the tear in his shoulder. Still, he had few drinks left and the watcher was still fighting furiously. Blood trailed him on the ground, burning in the fire but still evidence of his wounds. He had fallen once. Caim would see him fell again. For good this time.

The pyromancer slowly lowered his weapon and breathed deeply, the fire welling in his chest. He pushed the fire to his arms and legs, feeling the strength burn brightly there and surge. His muscles tense and burn. Strength. Power. The feeling itself was almost intoxicating.

The watcher slowly closed the gap between them and Caim watched him. His arms, legs, head. All for the leading tell. There! Caim stepped as the watcher moved in the same instant. Both lunging in the same instant. The watcher's sword swung high and Caim was already ducking beneath the mammoth blade.

The dark sword swung up but caught on the dagger. Caim shifted, twisting his grip and turning the weapons aside and stepped inside his enemy's guard. He jammed his shield up and knocked the watchers right arm back, driving in with his pommel and striking the rendered chest plate. The brittle armor cracked and split around the dark sword's hilt.

A twist of the wrist and the sword came down splitting the dark hunter's chest open in a spray of blood. His shield brushed the blow of the huge sword away but the dagger slipped under his arm and ripped through his abdomen. Even as blood filled his mouth Caim pressed into his enemy.

The dark sword came up again, slashing the watchers left arm open and sending a shower of sparks from the dagger. The fire was smothering, and seared his face. He leapt away, parrying the dagger, his dark coat trailing fire that wasn't his.

The watcher spun around, using the momentum to bring its sword to bear, griping it with both hands and lunging into a vengeful, flame fueled thrust aimed at Caims heart.

Bleeding, burning and weak Caim stood his ground, shedding his dented shield to clench his sword. Wait. See the moment.

The tip of the sword shot for his heart.

Caim stepped forward, shifting low. The blade brushed his ear as he leaned in and howled, swinging down and up in a short, powerful arc. Sparks flew as he grazed the stone, the blade rising and stuck the armor.

The dark blade drew a line from groin to collar.

The room stilled. Caim held his blade high, the watcher's blood in the air and clinging to his blade. It all grew still. Then the fire winked out of his sword. The watcher gave a final groaning hiss and slipped back, the form giving one final act as it turned its head to the sky.

And fell to the ground, vanishing to dust before it hit the stone.

Caim sucked the souls deep into himself and fell to the ground with his sword driven into the stone, panting. The strength of the souls and burning fire in his muscles helped but the fight had still taken a lot from him. After catching his breath, he slowly stood, shuffling on the stone ground.

The watcher as gone, only the pile of ashes that was ounce a lord remained. The bent helmet of the dead knight his only sign. Slowly, Caim scooped the ashes together. The heat was still intense in his hands. He tucked the lord's embers away and stood tall again.

A bonfire now flickered where the watcher had fallen. Caim lit it with his own fire and sat down. Quietly, gradually, he began to laugh. Soon the tome was filled with his cackling laughter his head turned up, mouth open wide. Laughing like a madman.

"I won." He said between breathes. Stone grinding caught his attention and he looked to the back of the chamber. The alter that had stood there was sliding back, scraping and revealing a staircase that led down under the building.

"My way forward is open." He chuckled. Continuing on was not the right path. No. Better to return and sort out all affairs with the watchers and their remains before continuing. With a heavy sigh he touched the sword and was pulled away.

. . .

The shrine seemed brighter. Fuller of fire and life. It was a lie he was telling himself but one he enjoyed. He left the pit of ash and traded the lost souls to the firekeeper before bounding up the stairs and depositing the cinders unto their throne.

The helmets burned and flickered with their dying fire. Somber and still now. Resting on their throne per their duty. One way or another, three others were going to join them.

He left the dead lord and moved to see Ludleth. The frail old man smiled as he approached.

"Ahh, most illustrious Lordseeker. Or should I say, Lord-Slayer? Fine kindling for the thrones, is it not? Each soul truly worthy of Lordship." Caim simply grunted and smirked. He didn't want to insult the old man.

"And all slain by thy hand. To bind them to their thrones, even in death. Oh I have no qualms. For as we to our thrones, thou art to thy duty. In fact, methinks thou'st helped these poor Lords along their rightful path."

"If that is how you see it." Caim answered, showing the soul of the Farron watchers from his sack. The fire still seemed to roar in his hands. "They were powerful. Powerful enough that I would like their power to be mine."

"Such is my purpose here." The old man said taking the great burning soul in his tiny hands and dropping it into the scaly kiln.

It churned and twisted before revealing the souls' forms. One, the very sword the watcher had used crossed with the curved dagger that had been beside it. Great dangerous weapons.

The other, however made Caim stop. The slender great sword was familiar. Long, double edged, wide near the hilt and tapering to the tip with a curved handguard. The markings were just as he had seen before. The sword of the ancient abyss walker. The blade to strike down the abyss. He could feel it even in the kiln. A thirst for the filth of the abyss. A desire to see it cut away.

There was no choice. His hand snatched the sword from the kiln. It was heavy in his hand but he could feel its power.

"Ahh, a fine weapon. Be wary. Its bite is great and hungry." Ludleth warned.

"I am aware." He said sheathing the sword on his back. "Me and this sword share an ideal. We will do well. Thank you ludleth."

The old man bid him farewell and Caim leapt down to the ash. After a trip to the blacksmith to see his weapon refined and his tools properly prepared he made ready to leave but had a final thought and turned right.

He felt the short drop to land before Yoel.

"Yoel," He called. Before he could say another word, the words caught in his throat. Yoel was dead. Still and silent in a crumbled heap on the floor. He knelt beside the strange sorcerer but there was no trace of sword or dagger on him. No injury. No sign of the cause of his death.

"Oh, prithee...art thou good Yoel's master?"

Caim spun, his sword coming free on the newcomer behind him. A woman in black stood near the wall not five feet away. Hands crossed before her, the hilt of a sword at her hip, and a dark metal mask over her face.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"I am Yuria of Londor, a close friend of his." Her voice held no fear or objection to the sword leveled at her. She raised a hand toward Yoel. "Thanks to thee, Yoel's soul is redeem'd. Allow me to express my gratitude, in his stead."

Cautiously, he lowered his weapon. Redeemed?

"Another matter." Yuria continued. "Thou'rt a Lord, art thou not? Bearer of the dark sigil, and our Lord of Hollows. For the time thou remain'st our Lord, we of Londor shall serve thee.  
And I, of course, am also thine." She bowed again, her voice almost reverent as she spoke the word 'lord'.

 _Lord?_ He touched his chest, feeling the hollow where the dark sigil was now pressed into him. _I'm a lord?_

Caim chuckled.

 **Authror's Notes: Damn, been a long time. Sorry to say that much of my time has been consumed by work and other video games. A lot of other video games. And a lack drive really. But here is the next chapter as Caim slips a little further towards the dark.**

 **I am still writing and enjoying the story. Now that I am through the swamp I hope things will pick up, the whole swamp was hard to play and harder to write. But there is a lot I hope to do yet.**

 **I can't say when I will put out more. Soon hopefully but only time will tell. Please remember to check on me now and then. And let me know what you think.**

 **Till then keep calm and dodge that sword.**


	17. Chapter 17:The Catacombs of Carthus

After some long talking with Yuria, Caim left the shrine. He still did not know how he felt about being a lord of anything, let alone a bunch of mad hollows and twisted creatures that hovered so close to the abyss.

Still, there might be something useful to be found there. Until it became a problem he would remain Yuria's lord. If it came to it, he would kill her and be done with it.

On his way back to the bonfire, he passed a new, familiar face in the shrine. The dragon headed knight with his great mace on his shoulder. Caim stopped and walked over to the heavy armored knight. Eygon turned his head to face the pyromancer as he approached.

"You return?" He asked as he approached, one hand on his heavy sword.

Eygon turned his head. "Ahh, I know you. Been some time. I just dropped in to see how she's getting on." His head turned to look down the dark tunnel that lead where the maiden rested. The great shoulders let loose a heavy sigh.

"She does well." Caim added quietly. "If she does anything. She is not been one to interact with any of the others. And there is little for her to do here beside sit."

Eygon made a small grunt. "What are you playing at with this circus? This cesspool of doddding oldfolk and degenerates?" He laughed. Caim almost snapped at the big man but he continued. "Couldn't be better. She must fit in perfectly here." He said with another laugh.

Caim regarded the big man with absolute contempt. He was a guard and yet he mocked the girl and his own people. Part of him wanted to argue with the man but knew it was pointless. He turned away from the selfish knight and stepped to the bonfire.

The tomb that served for the Farron watchers was still and silent. Caim left the place and its memories behind and moved down the flight of hidden stairs. The area below stretched out into a great cavern. Stone walkways along the side. Bridges crossing a large seemingly bottomless valley in the center. Stairs, bridges, and the remains of both cross back and forth to the far side and back.

The catacombs of Carthus, or at least part of them. There were a great many legends of the great pyromancers of Carthus and their skills. Not something Caim had ever seen firsthand, only legends. But this place made him feel more a chill than heat. The air stank of stagnate death.

He moved to the edge and leaned over. The dark below was consuming. An endless pit that lead into some unknown depth. Sloped paths and bridges crossed the chasm. One nearby. He left the endless pit and moved towards the bridge. There he met his first inhabitant.

Like the others, the skeleton rose from a pile of bones on the ground, rolling its head into its hand then to its neck. Caim stepped up and reached to his back, drawing free the new great sword. The wolf knight great sword came free of his back with a hum, long and powerful. Caim rushed the skeleton and in a pair of heavy slashes the creature fell.

It was a fine weapon. Heavy and strong. Even more so than the dark sword, but easy enough to handle. It swung wider and slower, and it hummed with a hunger. He sheathed the heavy sword as the bones began to rattle again.

The shattered bones came together again, broken bone knitting themselves together. The skeleton began to rise again. "Damn you." With a curse the sword came free again and smashed the rising bones, cracking them like driftwood.

This time the bones remained still. He watched intently as he slung away his weapon. The catacombs clearly left some innate power to the undead here. But still, enough force could still resolve the problem. It would take more time to ensure that the dead stayed at that way.

Caim ventured across the bridge, eyes scanning the area. There was much to explore here. Something he would have to devote time to. For now, he stared down the guard of the bridge.

A taller skeleton than the others, a full head taller than himself, walked across the stone. A great curved sword on his shoulder, shield in his off hand. With a sudden motion the skeleton leapt forward and vanished. It was brief, his form reappearing a few feet away, standing. He dove again and vanished appearing 5 feet closer.

 _Some technique to obscure movement._ It was flashy but Caim watched as the skeleton dove again and again. His distance was limited, and his direction predetermined. He timed the big warrior's rolls and stepped in, leading with his shield. The steel wall caught an invisible blade and turned it aside. The dark sword came up and under shearing off the sword arm. He slipped around and cut the legs free of the body and finally split the ribcage in two.

More skeletons came across the bridge, another stood on high ground shooting a bow. Caim dove ahead, getting to safety from the archer before turning to cut down the skeletons, ensuring they stayed down. Inside, the tombs opened to high ceilings, countless crypts and columns. More skeletons moved around inside. Some missing heads and arms, some in full shape. It was a ménage or failure.

Caim cut down each bone heap, shattering femurs and ribs and splitting skulls. The dark sword smashed as well as cut them down. The archers broke, the swordsman shattered. He moved down one hall and nearly stepped on a raised plate. A trap. The Carthus people did not like graverobbers.

Moving down the dark paths he found a ladder that lead him down to a strange shining object. Careful of traps, he examined the resting dead. Clutched in his hands was another wonderful treasure. A pyromancy tome with the carthus emblem burned into the cover. Another tome to give to Cornyx. He tucked away the book and gave a small thanks to the dead who had left it for him.

Moving through the catacombs he had to marvel at the design. So much work put into a crypt. Still this crypt was flush with undead as much as dead. More of the taller skeletons, some holding great curved swords with both hands, one that dove and jumped about with a pair of curved hook like blades and throwing daggers. Each was a challenge but still fell to Caim's hungry sword.

He explored the halls of the dead until he made a full circle back to the large columned chamber he had begun. Moving down through the doors he found a set of old broken stairs. A pair of the tall skeletons waited in the room, swords on their shoulders. They were fast, strong and swift, their heavy swords cutting with ferocious skill.

The heavy curved swords, tattered armor and ferocious sword skills gave them away. The Carthus swordsman. Not knights but close enough in rank. Dangerous, powerful swordsman who defended the Carthus lands. Now, even beyond death they defended the catacombs. Their pyromancy was said to be a strange battle focused art. A thought that just made him want to return and have the pyromancy tome deciphered.

The first was cut down before he turned to fight. The second leapt in with a spinning flourish of his great blade. Sword humming and spinning in a dancelike pattern. The edge battered his shield again and again. Caim weathered the barrage and pushed under, sword coming up across his chest. He pressed his advantage, pushing the creature off balance and slashing down across its abdomen before driving the sword up and through the skull, shattering it more than piercing it.

The swordsmen defeated, he took a moment to breath. The archway door lead out to a great descending staircase. Dying candles lined the stairs that lead deeper into the catacombs. Whatever lied below was no doubt more unpleasant than what he had found thus far.

He started down the stairs, carefully listening to the great echoes of his boots on the broken stones. Below, two more skeletons mulled about at the bottom of the stairs. Picking up the pace slightly he drew the dark sword free. Two skeletons would be no problem.

A heavy thud and grinding, cracking sound made him stop. From behind, the noise doubled, added with a grinding, snapping of bones. He spun around and nearly dropped his weapon. A great ball of bones and mashed skeletons rolled down the stairs, barreling towards him. Twice his size and tumbling with unnatural speed.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" He ran down the stairs, sprinting over the steps three at a time. Too slow. He couldn't outpace it. Reaching one of the many small landing he leapt to the side, balancing between the narrow stairway and the bottomless pit below.

He looked sidelong as the ball sailed past, smashing one of the skeletons below to bits and disappearing inside the narrow archway. Huffing, he gave a small laugh at the destruction of the skeleton. At least it wasn't all spoiled. He cast another look above listening to see if there were other great bone balls to fall and chase him.

Then the rumbling sound of bones came from below. He watched with face turned quizzical, as the ball of bones rolled back up the stairs of its own power and back into the archway above. Then it rolled again, back down, and back up.

"That is… that is just strange." He muttered.

A whizz and hum turned his attention back. The arrow struck his shoulder and made him nearly stagger off his precarious footing. Above the lower archway, two skeletons notched arrows to bows and let them fly. He blocked the next volley as the ball rolled down the stairs again. He couldn't stay here.

Chasing the giant living bone ball down the stairs he reached the lower landing and leapt aside as it barreled back out and up the stairs with some unknowable force. The remaining skeleton on the landing, missing a head and one arm, fell to pieces as Caim swept its legs out and shattered its ribs with his boot. The bone ball passed and again and Caim watched intently.

It was alive. As alive as a ball of mashed skeletons and bones could be. Limbs flailed out around it, reaching and grasping as it went. Eyes glowed and jaws flailed in its crushed form. And still it rolled and shot back and forth, defying the laws of gravity as if they were mere suggestions.

As disturbing as it was, it was a small intrusion. As it left he peered in the hall beyond. It widened enough that the ball would not hit him if he kept to one side. At least for part of the hall. The far end was barred and blocked, and it veered suddenly to the left at the end. Beyond that, the ball would not follow. Hopefully.

He waited for the bone ball to strike in and roll back up the stairs before he rushed into the hall and ducked to the side.

A skeleton stood there, turning to look at him with a sudden turn of the head. This one wore a strange hat and carried no weapon. As it watched it made a strange chittering noise and ran down the hall vanishing around the corner as Caim watched.

The ball slammed in again and Caim shook his stunned face away. "This place is truly mad." He muttered, running down the hall and turning before the ball returned.

The ground here crunched and cracked under his feet. Ancient bones left to litter the ground and cover the stone. Piles rose along the sides of the hall, overflowing the nooks and crypts on either side of the room. The catacombs looked more like a landfill than a crypt.

The skeleton with the hat was there, again looking his way and chittering. As it turned to run again Caim lifted his hand and hurled an orb of fire after the fleeing undead. The fire dashed across its bones, shattering ribs and scattering the fragile creature across the hall to join the other bits on the floor. The bones stayed, smoking,

Other bones began to stir, rattling across the floor and gathering. More than one spot, multiple skeletons beginning to form in the hall, clicking together. Caim rushed. There were three of them. He needed to cut them down as quick as he could. Fewer the better. The Wolf great sword smashed one before it could fully form and the bones collapsed to the ground again. The second one formed with no weapon and he swept up cleaving it in half. Bones scattered across the wall and he leapt at the third skeleton.

The skull split but the others began to reform. It was chaos but the sword swept out again and again, shattering bones until they fell still with the others. Only when the bones remained still did Caim sheathe the weapon. The skeletons were restless. The floor covered with bones didn't make it any easier to traverse the halls. More could rise out of the floor at any time. He moved down the hall, cautiously watching the bones. Another skeleton rose ahead and threw a clay jar that shattered into a pair of dark skull like missiles that raced towards him. Even as he moved the screaming skills followed.

The skeleton broke apart under the dark sword but the skulls persisted for a time. Soon, they too dissipated and Caim continued. The raised hall overlooked a lower path. The floor was littered with bones and lined with countless overflowing pots of bones jammed to bursting. So many dead simply mashed together in as tight a space as they could. This did not seem to be a burial mound, simply a dump to throw the bones of the dead. Given the history of Carthus and its king, it was not a very surprising idea.

As the hall opened Caim stepped and felt the click under his boot. He just got his shield up in time to block the volley of burning darts, striking his shield with a loud ringing. More traps, this one he had missed among all the clutter of the floor. It was close. The darts still had impressive force behind them. He brushed away some more bones to make the switch clear. At least now he knew.

The hall opened and Caim stepped in. Another Carthus swordsman waited with his back turned. As he approached two more skeletons rose from the mass on the floor and seemed to alert the swordsman before Caim could take advantage of the turned back. Cursing in every name he knew, Caim drew out his dark sword and flung a fire orb at the farthest skeleton, killing it in a mass of fire as the Carthus swordsman struck.

The sword glanced off his shield and Caim swept low, shattering the shins of the bigger warrior. The next blow destroyed his spine. The swordsman managed a final lash across Caim's back but the follow up shattered his skull. The remaining skeleton hurled clay pots with those screaming skulls locked within. The first two were too close and struck Caim's chest and shoulder.

A sharp blow sent a deep biting cold into his bones. The fire leeched from his skin as the skulls struck him with the force of hammer. He rushed the skeleton before it could throw another of its vile weapons and cut it apart, even stomping the skull for good measure. Taking a drink to heal the cold sting in his muscles, as more bones rustled and creaked.

The swordsman rose again, fueled by whatever power had pushed the other skeletons. Its red eyes bright in the dim halls. The swordsman swept low and high and low again. Driving the shield down he caught the blade and swept up, cleaving off his arm and shattering the spine. The warrior collapsed in a heap and he waited. It stayed down this time among the other dead.

The path beyond was broken. The bridge that once crossed the gap was gone and instead there was a sudden decent below. A giant rat, like the one he had seen before in the sewers of the undead village, lurked below. Smaller forms mulled in the water as well. More rats. Jumping into that mess seemed a good way to a quick death. Instead he turned and moved down the other hallway.

This was also guarded but by a pair of the Carthus swordsman. The two of them attacked, swords humming through the air. Caim staggered over the piles of bones, feeling them crack under his boots. His shield met the first sword and turned it aside, ducking under the following sword and leading with his own weapon. The blow shattered the second swordsman's legs.

The three darted and weaved among the broken bones, trading blows with their large curved weapons and his wide heavy longsword. His shield rang from their blows as his sword chipped and cut theirs apart. Deftly maneuvering behind them he ran the sword through their broken ribs and spine, before pulling free and shearing the head from the other. Both fell into the bones at his feet, their weapons ringing on the stone.

With the guards gone he moved down the hall, bones cracking under his foot. The end of the hall was cut off by a sudden drop. A gaping hole in the floor that fell a solid eight feet to more murky water.

Sounds of movement and sick, thick splashes from below warned that the fall below would be too dangerous. He stepped around the hole in the floor and retrieved the item lying beyond with the inlaid grave. Stepping carefully around the broken flagstones to the hallway he stepped down the narrow hall adjoining the larger bone filled hall.

The narrow path led to another large hall with a smoother floor with fewer bones. Skulls still lined the walls and corners but there was less trace of the countless dead left to pile as the last hall had been.

The loud bang made him freeze in his tracks. The thunderous boom came from ahead in the tunnel. A moment later a familiar grinding cracking filled the air. Another great ball of living bones rolled past the mouth of the tunnel ahead. Caim watched it go with a sudden cold stiffness in his back. Another of the living bone balls.

Leaning into the hall he watched it roll down the hall, passing an adjacent path that connected to the large hall. The ball rolled down the hall disappearing into a far doorway and falling down an incline and out of sight. Caim slipped around the corner and ran for the adjacent hall. He moved down the hall out of the balls path before it rolled back.

Thankfully, there was the flickering embers of a bonfire at the end of the hall before a set of bars. Caim happily rested among the bones of the dead, the sound of the rolling crunching Skelton ball a constant in the otherwise silent tomb. Beyond the bars was the hall where the first ball had been rolling. The stairs to the upper level beyond them.

The small rest let him refill flask and ease his weary bones. The steady rock of the skeleton ball was unsettling. He would have to pass it in order to get further into the catacombs. Like the last ball this one rolled back and forth unending. There was little point in delaying. He walked to where the tunnels met and watched it roll past vanishing beyond the slanted doorway.

Fingers tapping his thigh he counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. The ball rolled past. He counted again. Five again. It was steady. He waited until it rushed past him and chased it to the slopped archway. He ducked aside as the ball shot back up the ramp under its own power, skeletal arms reaching out and grasping towards him. Too short. He slid around the corner and down the slopped stairs.

Splashing into the shallow stagnant water he jumped aside as a large rat snapped at his ankles. Three more lurching to join them. A moment later they squealed as the skeletal ball rolled down the stairs and crushed the rodents in a vicious splash of blood and water. The ball slammed into the wall with the force of a war hammer before turning and rolling back up the stairs and away.

"Thanks for that." He said with a nod to the retreating, indifferent ball of bones. The large hall was slightly flooded. Shallow murky water ran along the halls floor, splashing under his feet. The skittering of feet and clicking of bones betrayed that the tomb was not abandoned, like the rest of it the catacombs. He weaved his way down a small arched doorway.

The path was barred with a set of iron bars. Stone on either side of the narrow hall. Beyond the bars the chamber opened into a vast cavern. A towering ceiling, natural stalagmites cluttering the area. A rope bridge stood across the chamber, vanished beyond his sight. A lever was beyond the gate, no doubt the bars release, but there was no way to reach it.

"What I wouldn't give for some rope." Caim muttered. The bars were in good shape considering the state of the rest of the tomb. There was no other path in the room except the way he had come. Beyond the bars there was another archway to the left. A path he could not see any further into.

"That's must be my way in." He stepped back and moved back into the flooded chamber. The large rat was there, dagger teeth snapping as he came back into the ankle-deep water. Caim sidestepped the gnashing beast, his sword slashing out and cleaving through the soft flesh of the rat and shearing its head from its body. The beast toppled into the water, bleeding and dying.

Turning to his right, where the tunnel must come from, he walked down the stagnant water and past the suspended skeletons and scattered skulls of the tomb. At the end of the path of water was another Carthus skeleton. A tattered cape hung from its shoulders and a pair of curved short swords. Before Caim could attack it leapt through the air.

With a rush of air the skeleton lunged through the air, a whip of his arm hurling a burst of daggers his way. Two missed but one caught him in the arm, tearing through the armor and flesh. The skeletal rouge leapt again, gliding through the air, his swords sweeping up over the water. The sharp edges cut around his shield carving into his side and back.

It was troublesome. The rouge was very fast, its movements hard to read properly. Its weapons curving around his shield. Blood spilled into the murky water with each gazing strike. One. Then two more. The rouge came in for another blow and Caim stepped in, planting his feet and swinging the heavy blade up. It caught the arm, splitting it apart and shattering the ribcage in the same mighty blow.

The cuts stung and bled but Caim remained on his feet as the skeletal rouge hit the ground with a splash, weapons clattering to the ground and bones limp on the ground. Caim waited, wary of the revival power that the others had shown. This one however remained dead in the water, its bones wet in the channel.

Moving farther down the flooded hall, where small candles flickered on the stone work, a new path opened up. He moved carefully into the archway, leaving the water behind for dry hard stone. The ordered flagstones gave way to rough natural stone cut from the earth. A natural tunnel that cut open into a larger cavern. Caim slowed as he looked ahead, hand tight on his sword.

The large cavern opened up with a towering ceiling and a deep chasm below. A rope bridge hung across from one side to the other. Standing before that bridge looking on with his back to him was another carthus sword skeleton. One of the larger ones with a great curved sword on his shoulder. The blade hummed with some dark red energy. A malice that twisted absently about it.

The swordsman stood a scant few inches from edge of the chasm. His back to Caim. Rarely was a chance like this given so openly. Creeping slowly over the natural stone floor he moved closer to the swordsman. The skeleton stood still and silent, its attention focused on the bridge. Caim stepped close behind, dark sword held in both hands. He moved within three paces of the skeleton and made the final step as a firm stomp, planting his feet. The towering figure turned, red eyes absently lowering on the crouched form of Caim, a grin over his face.

The sword swung down and up in a whooshing arc. Great, wide edge cutting up and catching the skeleton's lower ribs. Bones cracked and shattered, the impact knocking the lithe skeleton off his legs and tumbling over the edge. Carefully he moved to the edge watching the skeleton fall and disappear into the dark below. The jagged rocks and shimmering water below swallowing the skeleton.

With a satisfied grunt he tucked his sword away, turning and moving along the rocky path. The path opened to the room he had seen before. His feet crunched old bones as he stepped into the high vaulted chamber, moving towards the steel portcullis that bared his way before. The lever beside took some force to move but gave way and sent a grinding clattering that raised the steel barrier.

As the gate settled into place, the noise persisted. Less metallic more hollow and rasping.

Turning quickly, he saw two skeletons rising from the pile, rolling their heads in place before turning with their weapons raised. Caim twisted caught the first blow with his shield. The blade turned away, he drew his dark sword through the spine of the first skeleton and cleaved the head from the next. Before either could reform he smashed their ribs to pieces and knocked them back to the piles at his feet.

"I am so damn tired of fucking skeleton's." He cursed as he ground his boots into the bones, cracking the white bones to dust. "I am sick of this place!" he screamed. The howl echoed in the high ceiling but remained unanswered. He cast a look back before he stomped beyond the bone littered floor to where the bridge connected the chasm.

The bridge looked about as trustworthy as a feral abyss hound. The ropes worn and several planks cracked or missing altogether. It was in good enough shape to cross, assuming it survived his weight. Beyond the sketchy bridge over the great thousand-foot chasm, candles and torches lit the path beyond, a set of stairs leading up and beyond.

There weren't any other options besides than the bridge. To continue onward he would have to cross it. Carefully he stepped forward and pressed his foot on the bridge, making it sway and creak under his weight. Grimacing, he pushed a little harder, feeling the wood hold him. It creaked but held. Then rattled. Then the rattling and clatter grew louder, echoing in the great cave. Scraping of bone and steel got louder, from behind. Caim looked back, eyes going wide in his head.

The bones had all began to stir. Hundreds of them churning and rolling together in several of skeletal forms. Then twelve. Then fifteen. More than he could count as they began to stand and form, weapons raised, hollow eyes turning towards him.

"Ah damn." He cursed, drawing his sword. Too many. There was far too many to fight off. Not here. He cast another look at the bridge. "Damned either way." He turned and ran onto the bridge, feet pounding on the wood as he ran. Behind he could head the clattering of dozens of skeletal feet on stone, then on wood. They were coming in mass.

 _Can't beat them. Not all at once._ It was true, but he knew fighting wasn't the only way to win. As soon as Caim's feet hit solid stone again he turned and brought the dark sword down on the closest rope holding the bridge together. The tense coil sheared and snapped. The entire bridge lurching to one side as it began to give way. The wood swung back and forth the rapid snapping of rope in the air as the bridge lurched and the skeleton's teetered on it. Some tumbling over the edge to their doom.

Caim raised his hand, unleashing a gout of fire over the bridge and pushing the closest skeletons back onto the bridge. The cracking snap of the rope filled the air as the bridge anchored on the far side gave way. The wood swung to the side and then with another thunderous snap the other anchor broke. The bridge gave and swung, still hanging on beneath Caim's feet. The skeletons swung madly at the air but fell silently into the pit below, their frames scattering in the lake below.

Caim panted and watched across the chasm. A few of the skeletons ideally moved about, looking towards him but not foolish enough to jump to their deaths. With a contemptuous angry flip of his hand Caim turned away from the chasm and the undead beyond it. His feet walked slowly up the smooth stone stairs. Each step was difficult.

The path through the catacombs had been difficult. His recent rest had helped but there was much to do yet. His bones were weary and all this time under the earth was making him uneasy. With a great sigh he stopped at the top of the stairs, a great set of stone doors barring his way.

"I'm not out yet." He said to the dusty stone doors. "And there is no doubt something very bad on the other side of this door." He sighed. "Well, let's get on with it." He groaned, pushing the doors open.


	18. Chapter 18:High King Wolnir

The room was some kind of grand burial chamber. This was the resting place of someone important. Small pots stuffed with bones were scattered about the room. Candles were lined up and down the path. The path itself shattered and cracked like much of the other catacombs. The doors were lined with old words. Carthus was repeated more than once int eh faded script. As was king. A name stood out among the scratched words. Wolnir.

Stepping slowly into the room, he cast his eyes about. No guards or sentries. No signs of traps or anything to stop intruders. It could be no one ever made it this far, or the room would likely have been plundered like much of the other catacombs.

In the center of the room a set of stairs led up to another set of stones doors. At the base of the stairs was a raised dais, a solid stone block that was the center of the room. The focal point.

Resting on the dais was a goblet.

It didn't take much to realize the cup was far more than it appeared. Its appearance was enough, even without any other senses. It was the upper half of a human skull, the lower jaw removed and a metal crown like circle pressed into the top of the skull. Dark brushed metal and setting like the most important item in the room. Which is clearly was.

Without going any closer he could feel the malevolence of this cup. Its dark intent twisting like the smoke of an unseen fire. He walked around the dais giving it as much room as he could and watched the small object with no small apprehension. It however, remained a cup, sitting on the dais even as he climbed the stairs to the doors. The great stones did not move.

He pushed and shoved and even tried to slam the doors open. No chance. They would not yield. With a sigh he turned around, looking down at the skull goblet. "You are the key, aren't you?" he asked the cup. It didn't answer. Grudgingly Caim stepped down the stairs and walked around the dais to stand before the skull cup. "I know evil when I see it. I know the dark. You are dark." His hand gripped the dark swords hilt. "But I can face whatever you are and make it mine."

He slowly reached to the goblet, hoping to find some hint of it. Some clue as to what magic it held over the doors. His fingers brushed the bone of the cup, careful to see if any trap was triggered. It didn't take a keen eye to see the effect. Dark mist poured from within the skull. Its eyes and the holes in bone leaking heavy, dark mist that fell to the floor with a great weight.

In seconds it covered the dais and flowed over to the ground, spreading and darkening with every second. The dark flowed over the candles that surrounded the dais and snuffed them into darkness. Caim stepped away and watched it spread, the dark becoming more deep and consuming. The ground twisted and churned as if shifting to black water. The air getting heavy and chilled. Caim shuddered as the cold become intense and painful.

Then the wind howled and the skull unleashed a maelstrom of dark air. A vortex of deep darkness that swept and out and around enveloping Caim in the chilling dark fog of the abyss. A feeling he had felt before. His skin pricked and stung and he covered his face with his shield as the air churned and roared around him, tugging at his coat.

Then it was still.

Carefully he lowered his shield. Darkness surrounded him. Deep swallowing dark with no light or tell of his surroundings. The ground was different. No longer cracked flagstones but smooth dirt and rock. His feet sank slightly. There was no wind, the air was cold and stagnant. A distant dusty scent of decay in the air. Caim lifted his hand, the pyromancy flame crackling in his palm. The light was swallowed by the dark around, illuminating very little.

"I've moved." He whispered. He wasn't in the catacombs anymore. Where he had been moved to and how was a mystery, but he needed a way back. The only way was forward. A few steps and he saw an object lying on the ground. A small shining light in the otherwise featureless darkness. Approaching, he stooped low and picked up the item. A dark, ratty, stitched tome. A twisted and malformed pyromancy symbol on the cover. It was faded and damaged but still serviceable.

The air shifted, and new light sprang into existence. Caim looked up to behold the head of a great skeleton looming over him. A golden crown pressed into the top of his skull. Jewels were pressed into the grand crown. Chains hanging down over the looming skeletal face and its hollow eyes. The tattered remains of a cape clung to its massive shoulders.

The skeleton was large as a house. The skull large enough to swallow Caim in a single move. Great yellow light filled the room from its arms, where shining bracelets hung on its empty arms. The skeleton gave a long raspy hiss, the air shifting. Its long arms scraping the ground with a rending tear. The skeleton turned to look down on Caim.

"Well, you're big." His eyes focused on the crown and the ornate jewels. "Crown. Darkness. Death. I am in the presence of high king Wolinr. I'd be honored, if you weren't barring my way." He tucked away the tome and drew the dark sword form his hip. Stepping back as the skeleton drew its arms up, jaw opened in another raspy howl.

"Howl all you want. I'll still be freed from this place when I kill you!" Caim leapt forward lashing out, his sword scraping the bone of Wolinr's arm. The edge scrapped bone, making a shallow dent. The air, dark and misted ran around the skeleton's lower body, swirling and rushing near Caim. The touch burned with an icy sting. Tearing at his skin and choking his lungs. Panicked, he rushed away.

The miasma. The air clinging to Wolinr was corrosive. Poison. The abyss was all around them. He could see its traces on Wolinr's lower body. The spine ended below his ribs, the bone eroded away. Despite being part of it, Wolnir was not immune. The great skeleton raised its hand, the motion slow and lumbering before swinging it in a sweeping backhand.

Caim lifted the shield absorbing the blow and rolling over the ground. His feet dug into the earth and he came up as Wolnir dropped his fist where he stood. Caim rolled again, careful not to wander too far into the dark. Wolnir hissed and growled again.

The sword was useless. He was too big. The normal plan of breaking a skeleton and shattering the necromantic bonds would not work. There was no way to break a skeleton of this size. But there was a way. The abyss was all around them. Dark and hungry, already snapping at both of them. The only thing keeping it at bay was the light. The shining light of Wolnir's bracelets.

They had to go.

From his back came a low, throbbing hum. The dark sword slid back to his sheathe and he reached to his back, pulling the wolf knights great sword free. The blade came loose with a deep hum. A heartbeat like thump in his hand as he brought the blade to his shoulder. Wolnir gave a raspy howl and raised both hands before slamming them down. Caim rolled forward, the fists crashing behind him.

He rushed to the left, sword in both hands, aiming for the glowing target. Swinging the blade up overhead and crashing on the metal band. The edge bit into the metal with a grinding screech. The gold was marred. A scratch tore down the band. Damage was done, but not enough. Planting his feet, he turned and swung the blade up and around, slashing bone and metal in a single stroke.

Both gave with a crack. A visible line appearing along the bracelet. Wolnir howled, hand rising to strike the ground. Caim was gone before the blow landed rolling back and bringing the heavy blade to bear on the limb. The warped edge struck on the metal with a great ringing cry. The golden bracelet shattering into dust before being swallowed by the dark around them.

Wolnir screamed. Scrambling back and cradling the now lightless arm. The empty skull turned its gaze up and the exposed teeth seemed to grate into the closet thing the bone could form to a snarl. It was the first real sign he was afraid.

Caim swung the sword to his shoulder. "One down. Two to go." He spat.

The huge skeleton howled and swung its lightless arm across the ground like a ram. Caim got his shield up in time to ward off the blow but still skidded over the dirt before righting himself. Wolnir slammed both hands down, fixing his hollow gaze on Caim. "C'mon!" He screamed. He had to bait out the other arm. The other bracelets needed to be destroyed.

Wolnir's chest heaved. A raspy wind howling the air. The jaws opened, and black mist rolled over the skeleton's teeth to the ground spreading out to join the matching mist around them. Caim scrambled back from the spreading mist. Wolnir's form vanished into the dark. The points of his bracelets the only sign of his shape in the darkness.

 _More poison._ Caim took a drink of his flask to chase away his lingering pains and gripped his sword. The dots of light bobbed about in the dark as he moved. Then with a great banging clamor the skeleton clawed its way out of the dark quickly towards Caim. He charged and took the chance to lay his sword in the soft metal of the bracelets. Chipped, but they survived.

He rolled away from another raised fist and slashed at bone. The Great sword seemed to resonate in the dark. Its own power seeming to thump and hum from it with each swing. Wolnir flinched with each blow. Then with a low rising slash the second bracelet broke.

Wolnir fell back screaming and growling in the dark. Caim rushed the remaining bracelet trying to finish it but after his first blow Wolnir raised his head, dark mist gathering around his teeth again. Even running, Caim swallowed a breath of the poisonous mist. He paused to drink his estus. One breath had nearly made his muscles dry and his bone wither away.

Caim swept his sword across the ground back to his shoulder. The skeleton hissed and growled, slamming his fist down again. Caim leapt aside. Then aside again as the other fist fell. He rushed the arm and swung back with the great sword, bone cracking. His strike missed the bracelet. The skeletal king howled and brought its arm up again for another back hand.

Caim leapt back, watching the arm raise. The bony forearm swung over the dirt to slam into Caim's chest. He turned and tumbled to the ground, the bone passing over his head, with a kick he was back on his feet. He charged back to the arm that was resting on the ground All his weight pressing down. Hands clenching the sword grip. He kicked off the ground, summersaulting through the air and bringing the sword down with a bestial howl.

The sword struck with a ringing of a bell. The bracelet shattered like glass, the shimmering pieces exploding into the dark around them. The skeletal arm flailed at the air and clawed at the earth. Caim stood and watched as the great skeletal king clawed madly at the ground face twisted into a howling despair. Panicked screams filled the dark air as the giant king was dragged into the dark.

The pale bones vanished in the dark, swallowed in the abyss with a dying keen. Caim watched the high king die, again, with a sickening feeling in his chest. The image of the undead king being dragged into the dark was haunting to him. It sent a deep chill down his spine as he stood alone in the dark. Blind in every direction.

The air began to rush again. This time pulling forward. He dug in his feet as the wind sucked forward. The black mist was drawn to a point in front of him. The dark air spinning and drawing deep. In the center of the swirling dark was a small skull. It formed slowly into the skull chalice that had lead him here. In an instant the chalice seemed to swallow the abyss from around him and then he was back in the catacombs, standing before the chalice.

For a small moment Caim nearly swung the great sword into the chalice. He thought better of it as he worried that the chalice was containing the darkness. Smashing it might just release the evil all over again. This time, with no way back.

"Sick bastard." He took a number of deep breaths, a new free burning in his chest. New strength in his bones. A new fire burned in the room, a small bonfire at his feet with the sword driven into it. As he lit it he became aware of a small light in his hand. The crackling flame of a great soul, chilly despite the fire. The soul of the high King Wolnir.

"Long live the king." He said with a dry rasp and tucked away the soul.

 **Author's note: Long time. I've been staying real busy and dealing with some sad stuff. But it happens. I hope you enjoy the Wolnir fight. Was a pain for me first time and not a lot I could play with. Still it's a nice milestone for Caim.**

 **I will confess that in addition top stress and holidays some of my time has been consumed by games. Including the Dark souls board game. A birthday gift. Fun times.**

 **Anyway, I wish I could promise more chapters, and I might be able to edit and get a few out soon but with holidays and other projects I'm having trouble. Still I will finish this great undertaking and hope you will be with me for it.**

 **Let me know what you think and if there are any mistakes I missed.**

 **Beware of Darkwriaths.**


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